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TiiK siihjoct opcncil in thcjw pages is »o far new, that 
Bcarrcly any of the facta arc to lie found in books. Man in ' 
his higher phase hjis lianlly eomc within the grasp of nciencc, \ 
and the histories wliich shall illustrate his spiritual piu«sionfl 
have yet to lie compiled. One chapter, in one such history, 
is dithdently oflTere*! in the present work. 

I have collected my facts in distant places; in the Baltic 
provinces, in the West of England, on the shores of I^ake 
Ontario, in the New England cities. In every ease, I have 
seen the ]H.M>ple and the places for myself. Tlie names of 
many |>ersfms who have heliMMl mo will appear in the text : 
there are others of whom I would gladly speak, hut may not. 

The strange paper hy Professor Sachs, which I give in the 
original, as the chief evidence used against Archdeacon FA^el 
in the great trials here reeounteil, was sealed up hy order of 
the Royal Court of IWrlin, as a document affecting |>cnionfl 
of high rank. How that paper came into my hands, I must 
not say ; it is authentic and complete ; for that I pledge my 
word; and if either the authenticity or the completeness of 
this paper shall come to be challenged hy any one having the 
right to do so, I may then be in a position to require, and 
obtain, permission to tell the story of how it appears in these 

6 St. Jamrk'b Tbrrack, 

Aeio rear's Day, 1868. 






]!• AN ANQEI/h MES8A0E . 











































































1DA1«8 332 

• • • • • Otjf 


IITUAL LOVK .... 347 

iriNITIES 353 

IN1TIE8 300 

EN dG6 

JRIKR 373 



C8 306 

L • • • • • • 403 

)8 410 


»NIQ8BERa 425 




CHUISTUS kommt! 
Gott 801 Dauk ! Christns kommt I 

A man might liavc fancied that Buch pious cries 
a«, — 

Lo ! lie comes ! 

(»o(l be praiscMlI 

He comes ! lie comes I ! 
would hardly he considered hy a (Christian mapstnitc, 
living in a (ieVman city, in the i»re.sent year of grace, 
as likely, even when raisod by a mob of boyn an<l girln 
in a pul>lic street, to liave l)een raiiscd against the 
king and that king's peace. A man Tnight have 
fancied that a brave soldier, his brow entwined with 
laurel-leaves, would liardly think it needful to put 
such cries to the ban ; still less to stay them by u cliargc 
of that splendid force, which only a year ago gave 
liberty and unity to Central Kurope, by breaking 
through the Kaiser*s lines at Konigsgriitz. But such 
was not the view of his duty taken by General Vogel 
von Falkenstein, when these pious words, and other 
pious words like these, were shouted by a crowd of 
citizens and students in the Ilof Gasse and adjoining 
streets of insular Konigsbcrg last week. 

10 sr/nirrAL wivks. 

Vo^Xol von Fi»lkcMi*toinii» one of thor^c ready HoIdierB 
\v\ioin Katlior Fritz would Inivo euffcMl and hugged, — 
ouc i»f tlic llonierie lioroen of tlie Seven-days' War. 
Scb\eȤ\vi^ knew him ; Hanover and Fnuikfort know 
him. King Ci eorgo and IVinee Alexander had to deal 
with liini, |»o<ir fellown ! Ljwt year hin hand lay heavy 
on the Ilehrow dealerrt in gold and nerip ; hut hirt 
Rvvord W2iM not more Hwill to nmite the duhious city- 
friend and angry foe in open iield, than it wan prompt 
to cniJ-h, in ease there nhould have heon call for force, 
both tlic j»ious hi'lievern and the wieked HeollerH who 
met hist Mondav in the Junker Ilof, to announcro and 
to dispute the immediate Advent of our Lord. He \6 
one of those ehiefs who like to have it said of them 
that they stand no nonsense. 1 dare say that, as a 
good man and true conservative, Falkenstein Inis no 
wish to staufl in the way of a Second Advent; but as 
a soldier, commanding the king's troops in Ost and 
West IVcusscn, he has to think above all things of 
the public peace. If Christ must come again, he 
Mcenis to he of opinion that His coming should take 
phicc in-doors, with awe and disciiiline, not in the 
€»iK*n streets, with a riot of citizen shouts and stu- 
dent brawls. Anyhow, on Monday night, these go<id 
f4>lkii of the Amiier City saw how soon a line of riiles, 
iKirne by stning arms, and nittling over the Kriimcr 
bridge and down the Hof Gasse on the double, could 
put an end to the crj* of *^ Christus kommt ! ** in tho 
public street 

But how came a company of Prussian infantry, 
Hcrving under the flag of Vogel von Falkenstein, to be 
drawn up in line against students and citizens who 
were dimply crying out for the Second Advent of our 
Karly in the present mouth of November, 1867, a 

WE JUSKKIi UOh\ 1 1 

few words in the corner of a nc\v8-8heet told tlicsc 
students of Konigsbcrg, that three religions 8er%ice8 
were about to be held on fixed evenings in the Junker 
Ilof, the City Ilall ; that during these serxioes the 
impending personal Advent of our Lonl would bo 
announced ; that the true way of preparing men for 
this dread event would be made known. The doorn 
were to be open at si'von, the seats were to be free. 

No name was given. No witnesses were railed. 
In the city it was whispered that these meetings were 
being got up by men of some weight, supjiorte*! by 
the higher powers, who knew what they were doing, 
though it might not suit their policy to speak out. 
In Schb'neberg's Wine-stube,. — that den of the Lang 
Gasse in which the great shippers and factors of 
Konigsberg eat caviare and discuss the news about 
one o'clock, — these meetings were said to have a 
political end in view, and to have been originally 
plannetl in the secret bureaux of Geheimrath Wagencr 
in Ik^rlin. In the University you heard another talc. 
In the class-room and under the portico it was known 
tluit the Prophet of this new dispensation was a young 
man who had received his education and his doctor*8 
degree at Konigsberg, who had filled with high 
promise a Professor's chair at Marburg, and was 
giving up his career for the sake of his belief in things 
unseen. The students called him a fool. 

Things have so turned out, that this shred of notice 
in the public papers has made a great stir in the 
Amber Land. 

In the first place, these people of Konigsberg, piquing 
themselves, among many nobler merits, on being 
the modern Athenians, love to spend their time in 
asking after some new thing; and here, in the announce- 
ment of a coming Christ, they have found something 


tliat is "botli new niid ptranire. In the pccoml placo, 

winter lias <-<»iiie ilown lin.'illy on their streets and 

qnuyft^ loi-kui^ np their ships in ice, so tliat for months 

to conic tlicy will liavo scared}* anything eitlier to do 

or Ray^ exeoi»t smoke in the Exeliange, sledge throngh 

the Hiiow, rca<l the telegrams from London, and hct 

on tliat distant day in the coming spring when the ice 

will V>reak and their ships get away. In the third 

phu'C, tlio liarvcHt lias heen had, the nite of wages Uav, 

tlic i*\n»idy of wheat and tares scanty; in consequence 

of these calamities the shipi>ers are in ilMuck, the 

artii^niA ont of work, nnd the peasants sliort of hread: 

all of wliicli trials have a tendency to inflame the heart, 

to make men weary of Jife, and to open their fancies 

U^ tlic \irt>misc of a change. In the fourth place, such 

a thing a-* an evening religious 8er%'ice, given on a 

working-day of the week, is all but unknown in these 

Prnj»*»ian cities, where the churches are government 

offices, the preachere arc police magistrates, and the 

M?rvice» are governed hy rules as stern as the articles 

of Avar. In the last placo .... Stay! The full 

effect of what should bo said in the fifth place can be 

only felt v/hen the story on which we are about to 

enter lias been told. 

Yes, those few wonls of announcement in the news- 
sheet liavo made a very great stir; and such a crowd 
of i»eoj»]e as gathered in the Junker Ilof on Monday 
night to hear this prophet has not been known in 
Koiiigsbcrg for many years. The Junker Ilof, answer- 
ing to our own Guihihall, is not, under ordinary cir- 
cumBtances, a desert place. Here the great mercluuits 
hold their balls; the great bankers spread their boards. 
Here the political battles of the town and province aro 
fooght out. Here the Ilev. Dr. Julias Rupp delights 
a fashiofiahle audience by his eloquence; and Dr. 

Tilt: jrsKKR not: la 

Jolowicz discourscH to u body of rctornung Jews. 
Any great singer who may wander into Ost Prcudtseu 
\h heard in the Junker Ilof. The hall belongs to the 
city, and the use of it in only to be obtained from the 
tdwn-couneil ; but, in tact, the U8e of it i8 seldom 
refused when the apidieantn are of standing in the 
])hice. In the Banie room Johann Jacoby di bites to 
the demoenicy o]i the rights of man ; and Karl Itoscn- 
kranz whispers to the higher ehisses on the charms of 
phihjso])hy and art. I have been invited to an evening 
])arty, given in this hall, by the foreign Consuls, to tho 
cream of the cream, where the young ladies dance and 
Hirt, while the cdder people drink tea and ]day at 
whist. In a word, everything that liappcns in Koiiigs- 
berg happens in the Junker Ilof. 

But on scarcely any of these festive and .soleniu 
occasions has a crowd been <Iniwn into the place like 
that which the few lines announcing a discourse on 
the immediate coming of our Lord drew into this Iiall 
on Monday night. 

Before tlie doors were yet thrown open, a crowd of 
men and women, from all classes of society, bad filled 
the street in which the Junker Ilof stands, and which 
is called, from it, the Ilof Gasse. The night was chill 
and raw; much snow had fallen; aiid tho town was 
shivering in the second of its seven winters; that is to 
say, in the season of snow and slush, when six A>r eight 
inciics of biting slop lies everywhere on the ground. 
Eacii woman who could afford them had snow-shoes 
on her feet, and fur tip^pets round her neck. Almost 
every nmn had a cap nnule c»f sealskin, a coat lined 
with sealskin, a pair of legtjings topped with sealskin. 
All the seals in Spitzbergen might have been flayed 
in order to keep these richer believers warm. Many 
of the poorer sort of people were mulUed in rugs and 

14 SriniTLWL WIVHS. 

ahawla; none were in nigs; raga bciiij? unknown in 

thiB rcfjion of nlcet and slush, where he wlio Is but 

thinly cla<l noon dies of the frost, and i» put away out 

of iiijfht. When the doors were thrown open, as many 

of the mob as stood near tlieni tore up the hroad stairs, 

pushed t)irou;cfh the wide ante-rooms, seized upon the 

laxarious rliairs and sofan; men and women rushinu; 

on^ eu^cr and sliouting, to their seats, pell-mell. In 

one minute the hall was filled; in another minute the 

three hirgc ante-rooms were also tilled; while the 

broad Btairease, dropping to the street below, was 

piicked witli liunum beings still fighting to get in; 

ami li va«t en»wd of late-eonuM's behind them ehokeil 

up the Hof (lasse, and rendered the adjoining streets, 

calle^l till* Magister Gasse and the Urodbiinken Stnisse, 

uupa!^*«alde to a sledge. 

When filled by sueli a erowd of men in furs and 
^ihaniities, of women in mulls and eutis, the Junker 
llof isasceiiie n>om; its bright fittings and airy deeora- 
tioiirt coming out into very shar[» eontrast with the 
iMmihre ilress and keen expressit)n of the audience 
nhicli fills its ehairs.. The room is large and nobly 
i planiief], as bec^omes the birthplace of German liberal- 
i«ni, the cradle (as it lM>asts) of the new Fatherland. 
It in Auiiiewliat like the larger room in King Street, 
atid is hschI for many of the same things as Willises 
Roomn ; that is io ssiy, for costly baiKpiets, exclusive 
ba]l«t and high political meetings; but the Junker 
Uof is lighter in tone, richer in color, than our ow*n 
fanhionalile lounge. The walls are rough with gods 
and nyniphis >vith busts of hei*oes, kings, nnd poets. 
Tiro large cauidelabra hang fn»m the roof. Apollo 
sniileA from the ceiling, on which he is reclining, in 
briji^t-rcd paint, his lyre in hand, with Mercury and 
Aurora iu attcndAiico on Lis godship. 

il.V AXGEi: S MESSAGE. 15 

The room boinjc f»" of people, it Bcomccl useless for 
the Prophet of Doom to wait for sucli a carnal trifle 
as the hour nnnounced iu hin call. 

A servant lit a few more lights; then, a younpr-Iook* 
ing man, very much like a banker's cashier, walked 
up to the reading-denk, and lit two candles. A cci^ 
tain slioek seenicd to pass through the nerves of hit 
audience, as this young man hlew out his tai^cr and 
laid it down, lie, it socmcd, was the Propliot. Inn 
clear voice, sweet in tone, and wide in coniitass, he 
breathed above our heads the familiar words: 

Lasst uns beten — Let us pniy 

What foree had sent that thrill throngli my neigh* 
bors' nerves? Did the man's voice and mien recall to 
them the scenery and the action of some by*gone tale? 



rilllE Prophet of Doom was not a man of the pictorial 
JL kind. In garb, in build, iu face — in everything, 
perhaps, except eye and voice — he seemed to be rather 
a nice, respectable, young man; such as a common- 
place girl would like in a lover, and a sober merchant 
would engage as a clerk. My first glimpse of him 
was puzzling; for in a city full of pictorial i»eople, he 
was just such a nuui as you would find iu every office 
in Lombard Street In age, he appeared to be no 
more than thirty, though his actual years were forty* 
two. His face was dark ; but dark with the luminous 
bronze of a southern clime. Nothing in Iiis color, in 


Ilia mien, Hn«r£rostO(l a Ciormaii origin ; yet bo bad 

bttlc al>i>%it. hi in, boyciiul bis <birk oyi»8 ainl features, 

that unpliotl either Lettinb or Weiulisb blooil. Tbe 

abacnco of all hair from bin chin and lip marked him 

out for notice in that congregation of bearded men. 

His lock« ^ve^e cropped cb>80, and jmrtcd down tbo 

ride of hia head in tbe trne FngliHb style ; and be wore 

the flat kind <»f wbinker wbidi ih known to obi dandies 

in Pull Mall as a mutton-chop. On tbe wliole, this 

Prophet t>t' Wnitli had to my eyes tbe perfectly familiar, 

bnt in no way pictorial, appearance of a London clerk. 

I was not Bnq>ri8ed to hear that his name was 

Dientel — Thistle. 

To many of my neigldmrs in tbe ball — most of 
whom, let me say, were girls and women — tlie prim 
lock««, tbe nmtton-chop whiskers, tbo staid frock-coat, 
and tbe Uyronic collar, being less like things of every 
day, appeared far more touching and majestic than to 
myBclf. In the course of a long sitting, and after it 
wan over, I heard many odd things about the new 
Prophet; but not one word was said in my bearing 
about his prim and ordinary look. 

** The Doctor," growled a dark man at my elbow, 
**i« a conservative and a femlalist. Ugh!" 

•*IIo 18 an Angel of Lights one of Trivy Councillor 
Wagoner's Angels of Light," said a Pulisii Jew, who 
seemed to know all about him. 

** An Angel of Light?" put in a lady near us. 
** Yen, well," said the Jew, **you know his father 
was an Angel amcuig the Kbelians ; tbe son is an Angel 
among the Irvingitos: it is just the same.*' 

**If he is one of Geheimnith WagenerV Aiigels of 
Light, he is no friend to democracy," scowled the first 
Privjr Councillor Wagoner, I should say, is a very 


high tor)* in PruHsia; boinirOnif von Hisninrck^B chic 
adviser in home aiiuirs; yet so stiff* uconscn'utivc thj 
}ic look^ down upon Gr.if von Bisnuirck as little le: 
than a lied Itqiuhliean. This gentleman (known t 
all the world as having once been editor of the Kreu: 
Zeitung, and as now heing chief of the Junker party 
like all the high-Church politicians in Prussia, has 
strong tendency towards the mystic in his rcligiou 
life. Of late years he has joined the most niysticfl 
of the numy Pietist churches, which go in Prussi 
under the contmon, hut highly opprobrious, name oi 
Mucker — that of the Irvingites; in which religiom 
society he has attaine<I the rank of an Archangel. Ii 
this branch of the Mucker society, the Ucverend Doctoi 
Diestel, now in Konigsbcrg, announcing the immediati 
coming of our Jionl, is an Angel of light 

" An Angel ! " ponderetl the lady near me; "yee 
lie looks well descended and angcMike.*' 

Hearing these words, I glanced at him aigain. Tlicr 
he stood ; a prim young man, with a dark face, a froclc 
coat, a Byronic collar, and a mutton-chop whisker 
looking like anything on earth except a cherub. Yes 
she nuiy have been right. In Lithuania people sc< 
more angels and spirits in a week than we Londoncn 
are privileged to see in a lifetime. So they ought U 
know an angel when they see one. I will only add 
that if the Ucverend Doctor Diestel is like an angel 
tiuercino's models were very badly chosen. 

When the messenger opened his lips in prayer, h( 
fixed the eye and lield the breath of every one in tba 
rapt and eager crowd ; exercising this power upon hi 
audience even more by his way of speaking, than b^ 
the solemnity of his message. 

Lasst uns beten — Let us pray! 

The young man raised his eyes towards the figure 



of Apollo nntl Aurora, nml asked, in a tone of strong 
emotion, that a hlosning might rcBt on what he was 
about to Ray, and that the truth might find an entrance 
into all Christian hearts. 

A sigh on the part of some, a sob on tlie part of 
niany, responded ti) his warm appeal at the throne of 

"Why not into all liearts?" said a voice near me, 
"Ric Bfieaker was a Jew ; a learned, tolemnt, and fa- 
mous Jew ; one wlio belongs to the reforming syna- 
gogue in Konigsherg, and to the advancing liberal 
I^jr in Ost Preussen; a man who thinks much of his 
<>^. ancient faith, yet more of the natural rights and 
^^*il cc|ualities of men. I could not answer him ; but 
*omeof his furred and tippeted neighbors scowled on 
'"* <luestion with a fierceness of sudden wrath, that 
^o'J luc how welcome in this city might be a mandate 
^' w)nic new Father Fritz, which should command the 

Hicc to strip and flay a Jew for presuming to wear a 

^c Pn>phct took the Hiblo into his hand; and 

^fning the lcave»s as thougli it were by chance, ho 

^^^ his gaze on the twenty- fourth chapter of St. 

***tthew*8 gospel; and then read out slowly, with 

keen dramatic art, that portion which relates to the 

'^pending desolation of the Holy City, to the wars 

^i rumors of wars which were to come, to the great 

Mbulation in the churches, to the appearance of many 

^lae Messiahs, who should work signs and wonders, 

^ M almost to deceive the very elect, to the darkening 

of the sun and moon, and to the final coming of tho 

Son of Man. 

He was a very fine reader; with many a nipid rush, 
with many a subtle pause, lie drove the meaning of this 
aombre prophecy of desolation home into his hearer's 

AX AXGKf/S mJSSAGf:, 19 

BOuK With what lon-e and awe he read the words — 
"Then shall all the tribes of the earth mouni ; aud 
they 8hall see the Son of Man coming in tho clouds 
of heaven in power and great glory, and ho shall send 
his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they 
shtill gather together his elect front tho four winds, 
from one end of heaven to the other!** In Luthers 
German version, the eilect of this pjissage is even finer 
than it is in the English version, and the accomplished 
actor made the most of his magniticent text. Loud 
sobs and cries went up from iivo hundred breasts. 

When he had closed the hook, ho paused for a mo- 
ment to let his words sink deep into our minds; then, 
spreading out his hands above our lieads, he told us 
what the text which he had just been reading meant 
These words of Christ, he said, were sent to %i$. Now 
was the time foreseen by prophets from of old. Jesus 
looked down from the Mount of Olives — upon what? 
Upon the Temple and the Tenii»le-courts; works wiiich 
had been designed by Herod, continued by Archelaus,^ 
and all but completed, under Pontius Tilate, by tliOM 
high-priests Annas and Caiaphas. They were mightj*^ 
labors, on which tho noblest art of Greece was beinj^ 
lavished. Yet what did the Lord, in Ilis last hours, 
say of these eitbrts of human pride? He said the 
stones should be thi*own down, so that not one stono 
should be left standing upon another. Why did tho 
Lord denounce this Temple? Because it was a sign 
of things which were then — which arc now — an 
abomination in the sight of God. Beciiuso it was tho 
substitution of a material tact for a spiritual truth. 
Because it proffered to Heaven a slirine of marblo in 
the stead of an obedient heart. Because it was a 
dwelling for the earthly gods, not a home for tho Lord 
of light and life. And now, in our own day, is not 

20 i^riinTVAL WJVKS. 

tliat of wliicli Ilerotl'H tem|ilc was u type fnllillod in 
our inidBt? Have we not made a goil of our material 
good? Are we not poor in grace, poor in obedience, 
poor in ideality ? Ask the magistrate, ask the prince. 
Do ive not give more thought to buying and selling, 
to getting and saving, than we give to the salvation 
of our souls? Who cares for his soul? Who knows 
tliat he has a soul ? We sow wheat, we plant timber, 
we load ships, we find amber; but who among us 
lakes any heed for his eternal wants? who loves to 
obey? who puts himself at the lowest seat? who re- 
peats to his own heart daily the saying of our Lord, 
tiiat lio who is highest in God's kingdom is the ser- 
vant of all? You dread the winter frost, yet act as 
though you felt no fear of the nether tires! Is not 
this blind iiess of the soul a sign ? Are not our palaces 
•nd gardens simply doubles of the Temple and Temple- 
^"rt? Shall they not be thrown down in the day of 

Tl*e 8i>eaker pause<l ; a very long time he paused. 
Then he raised his eyes to heaven and said : 

** Heaven and earth shall pass away, but niy words 
**" not i>ass away ! " 

Another ]>ause ; then a quick cry, as of mingled 
i^S and triumph, came from his lips. 
**Chri8tus kommt!" 

Men sighed and women wept Hundreds of quiv- 
^^g voices answered to the preacher's cry with 
**Chri«tas kommt! " 

AW, said the Angel of Light, waxing wanner in 

iiii far}', is the time for Him to appear among us. 

jj ^Tow or never! now or never! Voltaire had said, in 

Ui own bad time, that the religion of Christ could 

not last for twenty years longer; the French infidel 

IumI tunio<l out to l>e a false prophet ; but he (the rev- 

A X A XOEi; S .}fESSA OK. 21 


oroml doctor) had it upon ln« 8onl to dcclnro tluit if 
our TionI Hhuuhl not ooine now^ He would never come 
at all. Were not the Scriptures now tuUilled? Wa« 
the time not ripe? Did not lie Bay that He wouhl 
come in the day of trihuhition, in the day of faI«o 
teachcrH, in the day of war and Btrifo, in the day of 
famine, })e8tilence, and earUuiuakes ? l)i<l not IIo 
promise IIi8 disciples that He wouhl return wlien na- 
tions were risin«j^ apiinst nations, and kingdoniH a«^iinst 
kintcdoms? Did not He foretell, as Ho sat on the 
Mount of Olives, that in the day of wrath, on the eve 
of judgment, llis people wouhl have to nuffcr uillic- 
tions, that numy of them would ho led astray, and 
that the faithful few would ho hated of the world for 
His sake ? Had not all these sayiuju^ come to be true 
at this present hour? Yea; they had come to pass. 
Yea; now was the time! Now was the great day! 
now ! 

Christus kommt! ^ , ' -n^ 

Many strong men sobhe<l aloud ; many weak women 
swooned and fainted. Hundreds of voices shouted 
with the glowing angel : 

Christus komnit! • ..\^ . ^ I 

(Jottsei Dank! Christus kommt! / ' • r • * 
This cry was taken up hy crowds in the outer 
rooms, on the stairs, in the streets helow. Hero and 
there a scowl, a word of insult, perhaps a menacing 
gesture, greeted the speaker's eloquence. 

"He is a tool of the conservatives," you might hear 
some radical growl. 

" He has friends at the Schloss, no doubt," said 

"Wagoner sent him to Konigsberg," put in a third, 
whose fear was evidently father to his faith. 

lit vain the Prophet tried to finish his discourse. 


On \\i\A hhIo polw niMl fi^roanp, on that side snocrB and 
yells*, jircventod liin voice bein^i; furtlior lieard. The 
yKioplc couhl bear no more. Roused by Iiia fervid 
phrascp, many of his audience were in liysterics, still 
more were blind with tears and hoarse with shouting. 
Tlicn, in a few last words, the Prophet was under- 
stood to say that, although the Lord was about to 
judge the worid, He would not eonie in u visible 
shape. Christ wouM ronie in glory and in power, 
but not, as the Jews expected, and sis the vulgar think, 
^'itli horses and chariots, with banners and swords. 
God could not be seen by man, unless He took upon 
Himself the burden of our flesh. The new advent 
^ill be in the spirit. 

Jle ended ; and the people in the Junker Ilof cried : 
^'hristus kommt ! 

Gott 8ei Dank ! Christus kommt ! 

^ short prayer was said ; a hymn was read out, not 

^^**5r ; the lights were lowered, and the people were 

otj* ^^ 'eave. Uut the people could not get away, the 

i^j^yy ** '^m and the ataira being choked with hearers, 

'^**at^^ tiio streets below the window were filled with 

** ^^ tJinmgli the pauses in which could be heard 

^)i of steel and the tramp of armed raou. 


Jolowicz discourses to a body of rofornung Jews. 
Any great singer who may wander into Ont Preus8cu 
is heard in the Junker Ilof. The hall belongs to the 
city, and the use of it is only to be obtained from the 
town-council ; but, in fact, the use of it is seldom 
refused when the apidicants are of sUinding in the 
])lace. In the same room Johann Jacohy dilatcn to 
the democracy o]i the rights of nnm ; and Karl Kosen- 
kranz whis|iers to the higher chisses on the charms of 
I)hiloso]»hy and art. I have been invited to am evening 
]>arty, given in this hall, by the foreign Consuls, to tho 
cream of the cream, where the young ladies dance and 
Hirt, while the older people drink tea and ]>lay at 
whist. In a wonl, everything that happens in Konigs- 
berg happens in the Junker Ilof. 

But on scarcely any of these festive and .solemn 
occasions has a crowd been drawn into the place like 
that which the few lines announcing a discoui*8C on 
the immediate coming of our Lord drew into this hall 
on Monday night. 

Uefore the doors wore yet thrown open, a crowd of 
men and women, from all classes of society, had fille<l 
the street in which the Junker Ilof stands, and which 
is called, from it, the Ilof Gasse. The night was chill 
and raw; much snow luul fallen; and tho town was 
shivering in the second (»f its seven winters; that is to 
say, in the season of snow and slush, when sixA>r eight 
inches of biting slop lies everywhere on the ground. 
Each woman who could afford them had suow-ttkocii 
on her feet, and fur tip.pets round her neck. Almost 
every nnui had a cap made of sealskin, a coat lined 
with sealskin, a pair of leg«:ings topped with ROalrikiu. 
All the seals in Spitzbergen might have been flayed 
in order to keep these richer believers wann. Miuijr 
of the i)oorer sort of people were muffled in ruga aud 


shawls; none were in niii^s; xxvg^ hcin^ unknown in 

this rcirion of nlcct anid slush, where he who is but 

thiiiW c\u<l t^oon ^lica of the frost, and is put away out 

of 0i^ht. When the doors wore thrown open, as many 

of the mob as stood near them tore up the broad stairs, 

pui«he<i through the wide ante-rooms, seized upon the 

laxuriou0 c*liairH and sofan; men and wonten rushing 

on^ eager aiul nhoutin^j, to tlieir seats, pell-mell. In 

one minute the hall was filled; in an(»ther minute the 

three hir^e aiitc-n>oms were also tilleil; while the 

broad i*taiivaso, dro[»pin^ to the street below, was 

IKicked with hnnum beings still fi;^htin<c to get in; 

mn<l a va>*t en»wd of late-eoniers behind them ehokod 

up the lh»l* CiJiHse, and rendered the adjoin in<r streets, 

calle^l the Msii^ister Gasse and the Hrodbanken Stimsse, 

inipassahio to a sledge. 

When tilled by sueli a en)wd of men in furs an<l 

^iiar«lineH, of women in mulfs and eutts, the Junker 

llftf is aiicenie room ; its bright fittings and airy deeora- 

ti4»nrt C€»nrmg out into very shjir[» eontrast with the 

8c»nii»re ilress and keen expressitui of the audienec 

which fills iti chairs.. The room is large and nobly 

planiifMl, as becomes the birthplace of German liberal- 

Wini, the cradle (as it lM>asts) of the new Fatherland. 

It in somewhat like the larger room in King Street, 

and w n»c<l for many of the same things as Willises 

Buomn; that is to saiy, fur costly banquets, exclusive 

balk, and high p<ditical meetings; but the Junker 

Uof ia lighter in tone, richer in color, than our own 

fiwhionahle lounge. The walls are rough with gods 

and nyniphis with busts of hei*oes, kings, and poets. 

Two \ ciunlelabra hang from the root*. Apollo 

•milca from the ceiling, on which he is reclining, in 

bri|^t»rc.*d paint, his lyre in hand, with Mercury and 

Aim>r in attcudauco on Lis godship. 

Each section of this Aocicty has a tale of scorn 
which it telU against the other. Here, under his por- 
tico in the Altstadt, you will some from Ilerr Pro- 
fesAor, in the midst of gibes and sneers, that when Graf 
von Bismarck, in thesummcrof last year, made his great 
appeal to the country, giving every lout in the province 
a vote, the rabhie of Ost rreussen refused to accept 
his gift, on tlie ground that they liad never had votes 
under thoir good old kings. On being told by the 
iVefect that their lord desired them to nnike use of 
these votes, and send poujo one, possessing their con- 
iidonce, to speak for them in the l^irliament at Iterlin, 
they wrote the King's nanic on their balloting papers, 
and then tossed them into the box. On being furtlier 
told by the Prefect that they could not vote for the 
King, since his Majesty was not a candidate for elec- 
tion in their city, they asked for fresh papers, and 
wrote on them the Crown-Prince's name. Noboily, 
you will be assured under the portico, could induce 
these loyal people to put their trust in a common man. 
Under the smoky roof of WoliFs Wine-stube in tho 
Lang Gasae — the high street of traflic — you will aco 
how quickly the tables can be turned against tlicno 
jesters. There you would hear of Jewish students 
who, in the bad old days, were ready to give up Moses 
and the synagogue for a Professor's chair; to change 
their nsimes, and to deny their circumcision, for threo 
hundred thalers a year. Tho need for these acts of 
sacrifice hjis been done away ; but the old sentiment 
remains in part. When a burgher is vexed, you may 
^till hear him describe a Jew — most of all a reformed 
Jew — as a rascal, only a little less vile than a Pole. 
Pious people in Germany usually speak of students 
as sons of Belial ; as young men who mock at loyalty 
and disparage valor, and whose Satanic creed may bo 


•ummed up in their own Acandalous motto : No King 
•nd no God. 

I» K(mijnwl>cr<]C» there is lesw of this scorn and hate 
than ill most places, since the students arc mostly 
^•^in the city and tlie [»rovince. Still the class Iccling 
"I tlu? UniverHity men is stronjr. Thus, it is a daily 
j<*f>twith tlie radical and free-thinkin;c^ youths to say 
that muny of these money-making citizens are given 
"In I'eyond hope, to piety, loyalty, and other supersti- 
tions They laugh at them for helieving in princes, in 
Angels, and in devils. They deride their proneness to 
iiahilge in spiritual language and in spiritual qualms; 
to trcmhle at the thouglit of a ghost; and to expect 
mystical admonitions of the day of <loom. Ilcnee, the 
zest with wliich these youngsters rushed into the sport 
of worrj'ing the |K>or souls who had turned out from 
tJicir warm rooms on a wintry night to hear what 
the young prophet had to say ahout the impending 
Advent of our Lord. 

The fun grew fast and fierce. To every cry from 
within the Junker Ilof these madcaps answered by 
derisive shouts. When the believers sighctl, they 
groaned; when the sinners sobbed, they yelled and 
screamed. One noisy fellow got upon the stairs, fn)m 
which he passed the woni of command to his compan- 
ions in the street. The reverend doctor has a search- 
ing voice; his louder tones could be heard through 
the double windows ; and when in his eloquent fury 
he cried out, "Christus kommt!'* they cheered him 
with a loud ironical roar of '^Christus hoeh! Christus 

Nor was this rudeness on the part of these young 
tuen the worsts l^ent on yet rougher mischief, gangs 
of •Indents formed into close files, and began their 
gmuKS of wedging thniugh the crowd; hustling the 





men, chaffing the women ; tramjilinflf on people'^ Y 
nnd (Iragginii: ofl" their clotheB. The night was ^^y, 
the street was wet. The erowil Rwaycd tt) and 
Btamping, chafing, p;i8Rionate ; and wlien it was 
that no more pernonR conid find room within 
walls, the whole body of stndenta who had been ^ 
outside began to join their fellows in rushing ^ 
5 pushing, in screeching and yelling. They tore a ^ 

into the dense masses of people ; bonneting the m^ 
pulling the women about Girls who were prc^ 
they caught and kissed, crying, '^Seraphim kissC^ 
Seraphim kisses!** Those women who could ^ 
away ran home ; but many of the insulted crcatur' 
could not free themselves from the crowd. The m^ 
who had come with them to the meeting citb 
fought with their tormentors, or struggled to car- 
them away. Still, the young men pusheil in and o'l 
of the crowd, crying, "Give mo a kiss; a Seraphi 
kiss; only a Seraphim kiss!'* 

A hundred battles took phice in the narrow strec 
under the Junker Ilof windows. Shawls were ton 
and caps were lost. Kisses were freely stoler 
"Mucker hoch! Gott sei Dank! Seraphim kisses! 
screamed the laughing fellows as they rushed an 
pushed. In vain the police came down to control th 
pother and clear the street. Some of the studenti 
seized in the act of hugging and kissing women, wer 
instantly rescued by their fellows. When the police 
men drew their swonls the ]>eopIe laughed, for the 
knew that no officer of police would charge upo 
these madcaps, many of whom were the sons o 
counts and barons. The officer made a rapid rctrei 
from the narrow Ilof Gasse towards the open spac 
called the Coal Market, on the Pregel bank, whenc 
he sent up a njcssengcr to the eoinnuinding General 
residence in the 1{oss-garton for help. 


While the police were fnllin^c bnck on the Coal 
Market, the nervico in the Junker Ilof came to an 
^>icl. The hot and excited people wljo had been in- 
^itlo poured down into the street ; and the students, 
*^ttiiig up frcnh nhouts of ** Seraphim kisses ! Sera- 
pl^iin kisses !" pressed upon the new female victims, 
^*>olc them by the arms, and kissed them on the face, 
*** the presence of their struggling fathers and out- 
*^Rcd husbands. Struck by these angry men, the 
'Students pushed and fought, and fought and pushed, 

.^P*"r their good-humor to the last under many u 
'^^••iguig blow. The whole quarter of the Kneiphof 
V* quarter eorresi)onding to the City in Paris) was in 
^ ^tate of riot. Those who were quitting the hall ran 
b^clc. Ladies hid themselves in vaults, in closets, and 
*'^ i]pper rooms. Some of the students would have 
*^*t^ccd their way in, to deliver the Seraidiim kisses in 
^ne hall itself; but a band of stout citizens planted 
j^^ir feet in the <loor%vay, and all the madcaps* eflbrts 
^^ swaying and driving could not force an entrance 
^■^i^ugh this sturdy guard. 

Ill a few minutes the messenger reached the Ross- 

K^«^cn in the Upper Town, when some such words as 

^■^e«o (I have been told) were rapidly exchanged be- 

*^'c*en the great soldier and one of his aides-de-camp. 


^^ General, the preacher Diestel has been declaring 

^^ the Junker Ilof that Christus is about to come/' 
^ Ver)' well.*' 
*^ A great crowd has gathered in the narrow streets 

^f the Eueiphof, and a breach of the peace has oc- 

**Well, where are the police?" 
**0u the HjKit, General, but too weak to act." 
**8end oft* a company of the guanl. Tell the cap- 
^^0 to clear the streets and bring in the riotero." 


In live niinutert tho8o onlorx had lioen given and 
obeyed. The ^uard^ wen^ nittlii)|j^ down the Rtreot 
tt>wnnl8 the Kriiiner hrid>;o, and the aide-dc-<*ani|i was 
standing once more hy h'u illustrious chief. 

"Who arc those folks?" 

"Some say, General, they are the Mucker; I know 
the Htndents think so.*' 


"That, General, is the reason why the students 
liavc niised their favorite cries of Seraphim Klisscn ! 
and Mucker hoch ! " 

"In that case," said the General . . . and after 
thinking the matter over for a moment^ he lit a fresh 

The troops went rattling on the double by the Prc- 
gel bridge into the Kneiphof, the disputed quarter; 
drew up in the Coal Market; formed into line, and 
marched down the Ilof Gasse, clearing it as they went 
along. In a few seconds the street was free, and a 
dozen stuih^its were in close arrest. Now the police 
came back upon the scene, and the ladies who had 
been Iiiding in upper rooms, in vaults, and closets, 
were taken by the hand, muflled up in furs and cloaks, 
and carried to their homes. 

l\y twelve o'clock the Ilof Gasse was itself again, 
sloppy, silent, and foi*saken ; the Angel of Light had 
disappeared, no one knew whither ; the soldiers had 
gone back to the U[)per Town ; and the madcap stn* 
dents were repenting in the watch-house. 

What was it all about? Why had these youngsters 
hugged and kissed the women ? What is the meaning 
of a Scrajihim kiss, and of the students' favorite cry? 
What is a Mucker? 

To know such things you must first know Konigg. 
berg, the Amber City; for Konigsberg is the enulle 


of those sinpnilnr I>odie0 which in ITcidelberg, Halle, 
llamborg, Elberfeld, as well as in Berlin and Dres- 
den, call thcmaplves the Conservative and Revival 
Churches, but which radicals and rationalists brand 
the insulting name of Mucker. 



K0NIG8BERG, King's Hill, the capital of Ost 
Proussen, is a city of peculiar situation and pecu- 
liar genius. The first fact al>out it to strike a stranger 
18 its extraordinary isolation. An old saying puts the 
case that the Amber City should be to its people all 
in all, since it lies, not only out of Germany, but out 
of the world. "A good jilucc for wolves,*' was Father 
Fritz's verdict on the royal and sacred city in which 
he had come to be crowned. 

In Fritz's time, Kdnigsberg stood in a far-off corner 
of the Ikltic 8ea, iive hundred miles from Potsdam, 
in a dreary waste of scnib and ice, which it had cost 
him a ten-days' ride to reach. The city was seldom 
open, even to the sea. In summer the roads were 
choked w*ith sand, in winter they were lost in snow. 
Old men can yet recall a time when the mail-coach 
from Berlin spent seven long days and nights on the 
road. Even now, although the roads have been vastly 
improved during late years, the wastes are so wide, 
the tracks so taint, that either a shower of rain or a 
&U of snow suffices to shut up parts of the country. 

Yet this city in the northern- desert is wont to pique 


iUelf oil many fine things; not without reason for its 
pride ; Aince, while it ha8 every right to elnini the 
rank of a royal town, it can lay some claims to the 
honor of having hoen the true birthplace of Gennan 
freedom, unity, and indopeiidence. 

In Frankfort, in Gotha, ])orha])d in Berlin, this plea 
for the Amber City may be derided and rejected ; the 
New Germany being wisely jealous of her national 
growth ; and this city of Konigsberg happening to 
stand upon Lettish, not upon German soil. But, under 
yon colonnade in the Parade Platz, where you pIo<l 
by the sheltering wall through your noontide walk, 
the big University dons may be heard to declare that 
it was here, and only here, in the college class-room, 
in the cloister, and the portico, that the great idea of 
Fatherland was born, and nursed, and strengthened 
into life. You should not disjMite what these sages say. 
Once, only once, I did so. '* Very good,** put in my 
friend. Professor Grundeis, whose great work on The 
Negative Conscience, though incomplete, must be 
known to every student of moral science ; '* if you 
will only consider how the Idea of Civil Liberty h 
been treated by the Church and by the Stite from tli 
very beginning of time . . . ." I shrank into my^ 
snow-shoes, and muflled up my chin in a friendly Uw..^ 
Beginning of time! It was then one o'clock, and at:::: 
half-past one, the snow getting hard, I had been prom— -^ 
ised a drive across country in a sledge! "Suppose,"^ 
I urged, "you begin with Jacoby and the Four Ques^ 
tions?'* The stern professor took a pinch of snuff. 
*' You English," he said, ** have one bad habit, -~ you 
always begin at the end.'* 

Yet the fact^ when you come to it, is, that all advo- 
cates of the claims of Konigsberg point to Jacoby and 
his Four Questions as the true genesis of Germao 

:»« srnuTrAL wives, 

*»xm ^ iounlity. Ifyoii oYijiH't, uitli asinile, tliat this famous 

•Tsm^'-oW rofusoM to arkiiowlod^o tlio Now (torniaiiy as 

Ifti*^ child ; that he disowns and denicH it; tliat he goes 

**^^ far in \\\a liostility a^ to reject u seat in the new 

^'C%-?'ii'lidtair; they admit that such are the facts, and 

l»»*c^tciul that tliey matter notliin<^, since Bisn^arok's 

Cic^rmany will die with the Count, and that the Ger- 

^''^•aiiy wliich eomeH alter Kismarek, tlie Germany of 

^*^^^<»hy and the Uadieals, will live for ever. 

[oni«r*«lHM<^ has heen called the Venice of the North; 

annc not only wide of the mark, hut far wider from 

^■*c^ mark tinui is usual in such comparisons. It is, in 

***^*^, ahsurd. Venice is a city of gold and marble, of 

**^>nies, and palaces, and campaniles ; a city which is 

^^'"*^»'m in tone, and high in color ; a city washeil by tlio 

^^^^ ; a city glowing in a soutljcrn sun by day, and gleam- 

^'•^ under southern stai'sby night. Kcinigsberg lies in 

*^ «x?alin of mist, througli which, for half the year at 

*^*«t«%t, neither sun nos star can jiierce. •' Eight months 

^\* laud, four months of moths," was a neat descrip- 

^**^»i given to me of the climate of Ost Preussen by 

'^'^owho knew it only trio well. The city stands on 

"»^ btmks of a stream — the Pregel — which soaks and 

* \J>« into the place by two main channels, winding and 

JJ^'Jcning into breadths and marshes of frozen sea. 

^en it is not river it is pond. One-sixth of tlio 

^■*f>le city, within the walls, is water; the surface of 

^ *^ieh is covered witli broken and floating ice for 

W'^rly half the year. Much snow comes down, and the 

^^^tTiier air from the Baltic melts this snow into slush. 

**» Konigsberg," said a friendly native, "we have 

^^f seven winters. First we have rain and hail; then 

^^ have snow and mud ; next we have sleet and 

•'^•h; this brings us to our comfortable mid-winter, 

'^'Wn the niorcury sinks to forty degrees of frost; the 


couiitry gets open, and we can Rlodge from the 
Guiise to Pillau by the firm ice of the Friijchc lluf." 
these bright days of winter-frost the dty is seen at 
best Tlie streets arc free from mud, the quays a> 
silent, and the ships are locked in ice. A layer (^ 
frozen snow lies thick on the ground, over which tli^ 
sledges glide with their muffled drivers and the! 
silvery bells. At night the stars come out — the fail* 
and frosted stars of a northern zone. In their rei 
lights as in that of the moon, the Gothic spires and tow 
ers of the city gain a touch of beauty ; but the beaut; 
is not that of the luminous and artistic city on the sea 

Kiinigsberg is more like Kottenlam — a city oi 
bridgCH, water-ways, and ships; of narnnv alleys an< 
gublcd fronts; but here, again, the resemblance ends 
The chief points about this Amber City — the lie o 
land and water, the quays, the Schlossaud the Schlosf 
lake, the island, the Altstadt, the red churches, th 
open spaces in the town, tlie vast lines of fortificatioi 
the solid nuigazines and burghers* dwellings — bleu 
into a picture which will live in the tmveller's niemor 
as a thing apart. Every old city — every city with 
story — has a life, a character, of its own. In tlii 
regal and knightly city, iSchloss, cathedral, university- 
each a good thing in its kind, whether new or old- 
give a fantasy to the town which belongs to no otbc 

The old Schloss, built by the Teutonic Kniglits 1 
please heroic Ottocar, stands on levels of giganti 
stones, rough and Pelasgic, likely, in the main, to lai 
for a thousand years yet to come. Here stand tli 
king's palace, the old torture-chamber, the picttir 
gallery, and the court of blood — the last named plat 
being that Iiorrid vault in which the Holy Ritter 
after their return from Acre and Venice, converte 



^Ibc^ Pagan Woik1» and Letts from the worship of Pcr- 
las, god of the tlnnuler-Htoriu. It is now a Wine- 
Ikj, whore judges and conncillora drink red wine, 
caviare, and smoke cigarettes. One walks with a 
lixms^hcd 8toi> thrcMigh tlie liamits of these resolute 
^^CMTnan knights, who Iiad fallen l)ack in their Eastern 
•^oriios before the fiery onset of the sons of Islam, to 
"^^^Icc up their cross, at fii*st in summery Venice, aftcr- 
"^'arxln in these frozen regions of swamp and forest, far 
^^^yond tlie frontiers of their native land. Strength 
^^ 8mite, and will to endure, they had brought with 
^betii from the east ami south. In the Court of Blood 
you ^.j,„ f^QQ ^j,^j gj^^ ^^^ which they put their Pagan 
P^'^j^oiiers to the test of faith ; when, with swords at 
">oir throats, these prisoners were told to say, at once, 
I** a word, whether they were willing to accept our 
JiOrcl, If they answered, Yes, it was well for them, 
***u they were free to live — to live as vassals and 
*crfii of the Cliristian knights. If any lingering prefer- 
ciicc for Iiis native god induced a wretch to ]iausc in 
Ills reply, the sword was jobbed into his throat; and 
^'^ thig swift fashion Percunas was put down, and the 
"-*igion of sacred trees, of thunder-gods, and of stocks 
^*^*I Btones, died in Ost Prcussen l)y a violent death. 
^ Tliig onler of Teutonic Knights — founded by Duko 
^ *^oOrich of Swabia, broken at Acre, ruined at Venice, 
toviv^jj ^^ Maricnburg, plundered by Sigismund in 
^^^»und, cheated by Albrecht of Brandenburg, dis- 
•^•ved by NafK)Ieon — played a most splendid part in 
the drama of modern times; u part which was some- 
titnes ruthless, often unfortunate, and yet one which 
"^left upon the north of Europe — most of all upon 
tjiego Baltic provinces — a trace that defies the ob- 
hteiuting hand of Time and Death. Konigsberg is 
^^^ one of a hundred towns which they erected in 
"leio northern wmxls and swamps. 

Tin: A MiiER cm: ss 

It 18 strange to think of thoac German Eni<^htis 
every man among them of noble blood, going out 
from the old diatractcd land to cut Pagan throats, and 
found, on the banks of the Pn^gcl, the Germany of 
these latter days. 

Kvcry street hai* its own qnaintness, every bridge its 
own story. Here a spire, and there a gable, nuikos h 
picture. In one place a narrow alley stops the way, 
and round tlie corner a broad expanse of water charms 
the eye. Now you have wharves and mast^, anon you 
come suddenly on fountains and tlower-beds. Open 
]ilaces abound, with statues of lN*usHian sovereigns. 
Walls of enormous sweep, embattled with tower and 
bastion, surround the city. A third of the city within 
these walls is grass- fiehl an<l ganlen. Those who arc 
native to the province lin<l it so ]ileas2nU and ]iictu- 
res(|ue (as, compared against the country round, it 
surely in) that they do not fear to describe it to a straiiji^er 
as a panidise on earth. Men who are born in Konigs- 
berg seldom go away, believing that when a man wlio 
had the misfortune to be born elsewhere, has found 
these gates open to him, he would be silly not to conio 
in, and mad if he ever went out 

Immanuel Kant, critic of the Pure I^eason, whoso 
bronze statue stands before me as I write, wais one of 
these Konigsberg patriots, lie was born in tlic city, 
and he lived in the little house ncc* me for more than 
half his long life. Ho knew nothing of the world, 
and cared nothing for the world. Konigsberg was 
enough for his eye and his heart. In his old age, ho 
used to boast that for thirty years lie had never set 
foot beyond the eity walls. Whither could lie wend? 
Berlin, the nearest city for which he cared a jot, wan 
ten days oft': the time which now sei^arates London 
from Xew York. A tiny house, full of books; a little 


l^arden, fall of flowers ; a house near to the Schloss 
and the Court of Blood, and only a short walk from 
his class-room, satisfied all the longings of his soul. 
"Why should he think of change? To leave Konigs- 
berg for the country-side, was to go out of Eden into 
dismal space. 

But while many of the people of Konigsberg main- 
tain that their city is equal to Venice in beauty, there 
are parties in it who assert that it is the rival of Athens 
in culture, of Jerusalem in sanctity. Learned people 
assert the one; religious people assert the other. 

The fame of its learning is unquestionably great 
and wide. Kant gave a voice to its pretensions, which 
was echoed round the globe ; and since his death its 
chairs have been filled by professors, and its schools 
have been crowded by scholars, of the widest renown. 
From the list of these famous men, is it necessary to 
cite the names of Bessel, Lobeck, Lehrs, Goldstiicker, 
and Hosenkranz? 

The fame of its theology' is hardly less large and 
deep. Herder, Ebel, and Rupp, each in his sphere, 
has made a noise in the world of thought. 

Beyond all question, Konigsberg is a city of much 
intellectual warmth. Perhaps it would hardly be 
flattery to say it is the most intellectual place in 
Kurope, since it is the headquarters of German learn- 
ing. Every one here is more or less a scholar. "You 
will fin<!," said to me Dr. Jolowicz, u man who has 
•»cen the world, "that the children of a brewer in 
Konigsl>erg are better instructed than the children of 
a state-councillor in Berlin.** In this city, all the 
young people seem to be going to school; girls no 
less than boys. •* In our new Germany," said a medi- 
cal professor, "we shall put the girls in line with the 
bojrt; teach them the same things; let them work fur 


the same degrcca. Our young women are better 
grouiuled tlian their sinters in any part of Gomiany." 
I am inclined to think this statement true. 

Konigrtherg i^ full of iuHtitutions; learned institu- 
tiouA, olKcial inntitutioni*, popular institutions. It has 
it8 university, three gymnsisia (colleges); several high 
Hi'hools, many lower schools, both for boys and girls ; 
and a great number of private schools; so many, 
that there seem to bo two or three schools in every 
street. It has two courts of justice: the IStadtgericht 
and the. Tribunal, besides a Consistorium, corre- 
sponding to our Court of Arches. It has the Schloss, 
the Arsenal, the Customs, and many other ofKces of 
government. The city is a great port, a vast manufac- 
tory, a frontier fortress, and the seat of government 
for the two great provinces of Ost and West Preussen. 
In it are found the Landowners' club, the Commercial 
club, and the Citizens' club. 

In these several circles, every new thing is made 
known, every new truth is debated, every new person- 
age is weighed. Political passion runs high ; these 
circles being divided in oiiinion between the hot 
liberalism of the university, and the stout conservatism 
of the church. As a rule, the landlords and profesH- 
ors take opposite sides; the aristocrats taking the 
feudal and religious view of ]K)litical action ; the doc* 
tors tiking the modern and commercial view. Like 
maf^ter like man. The peasants and artisans follow 
their neighbors ; the spade-workers voting with Bis- 
marck and Falkenstein, the hand-workers with Jacoby 
and Rosenkranz. 

The bargemen and sledgers are fierce politicians ; 

men who give thought to political questions, and talk 

as keenly about Luxemburgh and the Rhine as the 

busiest statesman in Berlin. Tiieir club is a Uiing to 



see ; a bi^ room in a becr-houso near the Pregel, in 
which they hold Hittin^s two or three times a week; 
when each man pays clown three*pence at the door, 
which he tukctf out in white beer and tobacco, whilo 
his favorite speaker is denouncing Louis NapolcoHi 
and, nieiaphorically, chawing up the French. 



IN tliifl city of contradictions — liomo of the Teu- 
tonic Kni«^htH and of the modern democrats — city 
of Father VvxX'a and of ImmanucI Kant — cnidle of 
religious enterprise and of philonopliical utilitarianism 
— scene of the coronation and of tlie Four Questions — 
fortress of the old I'ruHsia and of the new Germany — 
a strange aflair took place some years ago, many of 
the actors in which are still alive, and the end of which 
we have not come to yet 

The persons who stood in front of this battle were : 
on one side, two very high and eloquent clergymen, 
the Very Reverend the Archdeacon Wilhclm Ebcl, 
(lean o( the Altstadt church, and the Rev. Ileinrich 
i>iestel, ]niritor of the Ilaberberg church : on the other 
Aide, Obcr-1'rasident Ileinrich Theodor von 6chon and 
the fannnis Professor Sachs, known as Mephistopheles 
Hachs. The two clergymen were defendants in a suit, 
of which von Schon was the chief promoter, and Sachs 
the chief witness. Personal matters of an extraordi- 
nary kind were alleged against tliese ministers of the 
Church ; but the personal afiairsi though strange and 


8erioii9, were known to l>e little more than the husk 
and hIicII of the actual charge. 

Much scandal was talked and written ; for a scandal* 
OU8 charge wan found to be a convenient form under 
which two angry and i>owerful corporations could 
otior each other a battle to the death. 

The Very Reverend Archdeacon Ebcl and the Kcv. 
Paistor I)ie8tol (the necond of whom was the father of 
<iur new Angel of Ligbt) were men of exalted piety, 
who, in their several churches, ha«l begun to preach, 
in a fervid manner, and with much success, in supiiort 
of a mystical docrtrine of regenemtion ; doing so at a 
time when religion was out of vogue, and Christianity 
was regarded by learned men as an ancient practical 
joke. Many men, and still more women, took hold 
of this new doctrine of a better life. The Altntadt 
church was filled by a fashionable audience; the Ilabcr- 
berg church, lying in a distant suburb, beyond tho 
Prcgel, was tilled by farmers, artisans, an<l clerks. 
The two divines had a great day in tho Lord, and, in 
conseriuence of their labors, a hot revival of religion 
seemed to be setting in. 

Learned men and liberal leaders did not like this 
movement in tho Church. They feared, and very 
wisely feared, that tho spirit which was spurring tho 
])oo{de into repentance of their sins would bo found in 
the long run to have been a conservative spirit, and 
that some of those who fell under the inilueneo of 
these holy and eloquent preachers would bo drawn 
away from the liberal and rationalistic side in politics to 
that of tho feudal and clerical side. In ortler to prevent 
such a change of front, the radicals and rationalists sot 
themselves to oppose and to expose tho two men who 
seemed to be leading tho 8usce]itible citizens astray; 
driving them back, by pictures of what they called 


imaginary heavens and hells, into the worst ways of 
superstition ; separatin^i( them from their stanch 
friends, the political reformers ; and teaching them to 
despise the good things of this present life in favor of 
crowns of glory to he worn in a world to come. In 
opposing and exjiosing men so dangerous to their 
party, some of the liheral leaders had a duty to per- 
form of a very unpleasant kind. They had to appear 
as persecutors; they had to make use of rumors and 
scandals which they could not prove; when the day 
of trial came upon them they had to stand by men 
who could only have Iielped them in their work by 
first consenting to betray the most sacred trusts. 
Public men, it is often said, must not be nice; and 
some of the Ost Preussen liberals, having entered on 
A campaign against what they liad good ground for 
considering as a theocnitic and conservative reaction, 
were compelled to lay aside the more delicate scruples 
and hesitations of public men. They listened to any 
calumny, however gross. They studied terms of 
insult and reproach. ISonie of the more daring spirits 
invented facts. 

The two revival clergymen had not called either 
themselves or their flocks by any new name; for 
they did not openly profess to hold any new doc- 
trine. They pretended to be Lutheran and Evangeli- 
cal ; but Lutheran and Evangelical of a warmer type ; 
men with a finer sense of religion, and a quicker 
belief in the coming Advent of our Lord. Their 
philosophical and radical enemy, Ober-Pnisident von 
Schon, stung them with the nickname of Mucker; by 
which odious appellation they have since that day 
been mostly known* Writers who wish to treat these 
people with respect, speak of them as Ebelians. Fre- 
quently they are gn>u[ied under the general name of 

Pietists; a word wliich tlioy ilo not own, but to wliich 
tlioy would i»n>l)ably not ohjoot. liut in common life, 
they arc known from the Uliine to tlio Baltic, \\\ all 
the cities where they are said to have either public 
congregations or secret societies, as the Mucker, and 
only as the Mucker. 

Mucker is a cant word, of dubious origin. It de- 
scribes the habits of vermin, such as rats and bares; 
and, by verbal license, of nicn who have the like hab- 
its with rats and hares. When ap}died to m<^n of a 
higher rank, it is meant to suggest cunning, lewdness, 
and hypocrisy. Mawworm in Bickerstaffo's comedy 
of the Hypocrite, may suggest the kind of knave who 
is meant by a German when ho flings tbe epithet 
Mucker at a religious man. Of course the word is 
indignantly denounced and repudiated by Ebers fol- 
lowers and friends. 

A religions revival was in those days, and in that 
old Prussian society, a strange and perilous thing. 
KbcVs revival found high friends; but to many per- 
sons of position and responsibility, it was a thing out 
of time, out of order, almost out of nature. Tbe pro- 
fessional mind would not tolerate it, the official mind 
could not understand it. Both parties scorned it as a 
craze whicb had fallen on women, and on men who 
had the fantasies of women. Apart from politics, the 
revival was a trouble, an excitement, a cause of strife. 
What man in authority is fond of a movement winch 
disturbs the public peace? And how can a movement, 
caused by a warm conviction that the day of judgment 
is near at hand, be other tban a cause of trouble to the 
official mind 7 

A revival ! cried the rationalistic profesdors in tbe 
portico; what do you want to revive? A finer sense 
of the immed lateness of God, you say! What finer 



eeuse? Ami what do you mean by the immediate- 
ness of God? 

A revival! «iid the highly-drilled Government offi- 
cials; what lA the object of all this fuss and noise? 
AVhy arc these people crowding to the Old Town 
cshurch? What is the purpose of these evening lec- 
turcis tlicsc extni servieos, these private meetings of 
TkXQw and women ? All tliis passion betrays a want of 
sense, said the philosophers; all this disoixler betrays 
«E want of drill, said the magistrates. Neither in the 
XJniversity nor in the Scliloss could the movement bo 
s^gardeil as a simple and harmless fact. 

The ser\'ice of religion had in those days sunk very 
'Hmch into a decorous fonn, which otlended nobody, 
Vjecausc that service was su*cepted on all sides as a 
^tate tradition, a part of the high police of society, a 
field for 8unday preachers, in which there could be no 
,^^at harm, since there longer in it a spark of 
life. Learning had no fear of it ; science hardly knew 
St. The rationalistic creeds then current in every Ger- 
^nan College, were Ictl untouched by a public ceremo- 
nial rite, which seemed to have no other end in view 
^han to keep women in their place, and find a little 
amusement for official men. In Prussia, the church 
lias always been a branch of the high police. Men in 
office, and men who are seeking office, go to it as part 
of their duty ; as a parade-ground, where they see and 
<nui be seen. But their presence is a form, and some- 
times a joke. One day, General Werther, a man of 
deep religious feeling, met Baron Humboldt coming 
out of the court chapel in Berlin. The General smiled 
M he shook hands with his friend, saying he was glad 
to see the philosopher at church. "You see, General," 
liid the veteran minister, whose breast was covered 
with iitani and crosses, "I want to get on in the world.*' 

i'iiri:('ii am: f'M\'/:i:srn: 

knew no better Bhould doze through a dull scrnio ^^ 
spoko with reserve, if not with respect, of the popul^^ 
divines. They allowed, like their fellows among ou 
Helves, that the Liturgy was a very fine thing — con 
Bidered as a work of art; and on festive occasion 
they betrayed a lolly condescension to public taste, by^^ 
sauntering in person to the parish church. Thus fa 
they could go ; not one step farther. If they agreed 
to tolerate the clergy, it was only so long as dieso 
parsons knew how to be dull, decorous, and discreet. 
A church that should be active and aggressive — that 
nhould talk of its mission — that should set itself 
against the world — that should dream of saving 
souls — that should prattle of a. day of judgment— 
they could neither visit nor forgive. 

Trussian magistrates were even less tolenint of 
revival clergymen than the professors. To philoso* 
phcrs, these busy divines were a nuisance; to officers 
of state, they might become a peril. Preachers who 
announced the Second Coming filled the church with 
crowds; causing a morbid feeling in society; leading 
to koen debaites in the journals; and sometimes 
thronging the streets and squares. All these excitc« 
nients struck the official mind as unfavorable to tho 
city, to the course of trade, to the preservation of peace. 
In that stout old Preussen, where ever}'thing was kept 
in order, the cities like the hamlets, the churches like 
the theatres, the whole province was governed like a 
camp, and tho people in it were ruled by articles of 
war. But, now, in the Old Town church, under pre- 
tence of piety and worship, a clergyman of rank was 
introducing novelties, things unknown in the book 
of religious drill ! To an Ober-Priisident who had no 
personal leaning towards the clerical party, this was 


too ¥nncli. In the past, religion had clone something 

■Of l*rusrtia; and the niaj^istrat^; of a powerful king- 

^^■^t was not averse to Prussia doing something for 

*'^*>^ion; but he could not be made to see that she 

^'^*^ 4*alled upon to do it in any other way than her 

^^^^■^ ; not with noise and fuss, with shouts and riot, 

. ^^^ ill full dress, marching in true time, and with her 

^^ti<i Qii iier sword. A morbid and irregular move- 

^^•^^ in the souls of men, would be to such an officer 

^^^^ful and perplexing. What could he do with it? 

Ito-t were the clergy about? Were not these pastors 

^*^^^ to keep things quiet? Was it conceivable that 

^^11 Avho received money for aiding to maintain the 

^^ *>lic peace, should have been guilty of stirring their 

^^Urers into frenzy? A mutiny in the army could 

^^^vlly have surprised the magistrates more than a 

^^v\va| ill the Church. 

^Vhat to them was the church in Ost Preussen, ex- 
^^l>t a part of that vast military and social organiza- 
tion, the twin objects of which are peace and strength? 
To ArclHleacon £bel, and to the disciples whom he 
<)rew into his inner circle, this church appeared to be 
ioruething else, — something difierent to either a po- 
lice-office or a barrack. It was the house of God. 
Its ministers were the servants of God. Its congre- 
gation were the children of God. 

Ebel was of the high Church, very high ; and the 
great purport of his ministry was to prepare mankind 
for a Coming Christ 
Ueuce he came to be branded with an odious name. 







YESTERDAY, at tea-time, ray learned friend, 
Rechts-anwalt Drehcr, came into my room to tell 
inc of a little, treat which he had been preparing for 
uiy instruction. 

*' What is it?" 

^' Ilerr John Bull, would it please you to undergo 
the rite of initiation ? " 

"Initiation! Into what?" 

"Into the mystery of mystcrieR; into the secret of 
Konignberg; into the high and well*boru society of 
Na880 Mucker." 

"And what, pray, Ilerr Advocat, is a noMser 

"IIu, ha!" he roared. "Ein nasser Mucker is a 
Wet Mucker, — as your people in London say a Wet 
Quaker. Ein nasser Mucker is a Pasquin,— what yon 
may call a Punch." 

"And who, may I venture to ask, are these Wet 
Muckers, these Pasquins and Punches? " 

"lla, ha!*' laughed the leanied lawyer, — "every 
one : that is to say, every one who is not a fool ; ovciy 
one who is not a slave ; every man with a head on his 
shoulders, and a diploma in his pocket" 

" You wish me to understand that most of the pro- 
fessors and students belong to this high and well- 
born society ? " 

*' So, Ilerr John Bull ; that is so. Not all, however; 


since there may be fools and slaves, men without 
hcaiis, who yet — and ninch tlie pity ! — have diplomas 
in their pockets, and i^it in professors* cliairs. But if 
every man in tlie Univereity is not a Wet Mucker, 
plenty of Wet Muckers may be found oufside the 
University, — mostly among those rich bankers and 
shippers of Konigsberg who have seen the world, 
And among tliose country gentlemen of Ost Preusseu 
Ho have been taught the sciences and arts." 

*' What, then, is the nature of this Wet Muckerism, 
^ which so many free and learned men subscribe?" 
**My friend, it is the counter-comedy." 
** Counter-comedy ? " 

** Yes, the counter-comedy ; the movement against 
^^<i movement; the only answer which in these days 
***• ^nce can make to superstition.*' 

^*But what is this movement of superstition, to 
^' *^ ieh these learned men reply ?" 

^'Ilush!*' he said, his finger on his lip. With an 
!** •^ of mock solemnity he looked round the room, 
J^'^^^kcd the folding-doors, drew the cuitains closer, and 
^ ^=>n came back to his seat near the stove. 1 looked 

Jl^.^^^ his face for an explanation. " Hush ! " ho said, 
tig the Mucker!*' 
* Mucker? That, I remember, was the cry jof those 

* ^^^dents in the Ilof Gasse when the soldiers came 

tling down. * Mucker hoch! Mucker hoch!" 

lat is *Mueker ' ? Where do you get the word? *' 

^*U'm!" breathed the learned pundit through his 

; *'that tit a question. By*and-by it shall be an- 

<red, not now. The origin of this word has not 

«n cleared from doubt I have myself had the good 

^'^•^une to trace it in the Wendisch, MoBso-Gothic, and 

^«Twi dialects.' 

•* Have you T 




*' Yc8 ; when my work on The Pandcctcn ia com- 
pleted (the nineteenth vohime is now ready, and per- 
haps I shall wind it up in six more tomes), I shall 
bo^in a history of the word MucKEU, showing its 
))ruinil)le origin, and t.ra<*ing its changes ot* sense in all 
iigoH and through all languages. At present, you must 
panlon me for ofteringyou only a short abridgment." 


** When Zoroantor gjive laws to his people after their 
arrival in the land of Nod , . . . " 

'' But, will you tell me what the word Mucker means 
in the present day ? '* 

** There, you English again ! Ypu will begin at the 
end. The word means anything, nothing. It is a 
tonn of the common people. It is a reproach, a sar- 
casm, an accusation, an insult. It suggests the habits 
of vermin, and of men who are thought to be hardly 
any higher in the scale of education than vermin." 

" Against whom is it applied ? " 

''Ha, ha!" cried the learned Advocate, with a 
shrug and a laugh, ''against our enemies: against 
knaves and fools, against ranters and canters, against 
hypocrites and Pietists . . • But we must now begin 
our rites. You smoke tobacco ? You drink Koman 

'* Well, yes ; I take such things under good advico— 
as medicine." 

A pull of the bell, a word to the servant, and in a 
few seconds we had a bowl of Roman punch, a bag of 
strong Swabian tobacco, and a couple of new hunting- 
pipes, laid on the table. 

'* Kneel down, Novitius," said the lawyer; on my 
doing which, he filled a pipe with tobacco, lit a match, 
put the amber piece to his lips, drew three or four 
bre^iths through the tube, and then handed the pipe 


to mc, saying: ''Smoke, my 8on ; but miml, you must 
only smoke from tlie heart, in obedience to the voice 
within.*' I tried to do so. Wlien I had taken some 
dozen whiffs in silence, he inquired : '' Have you come, 
my wcH-bcloved, to a full conviction and acceptance 
of the universal prevalence of light? " 

"Yes; my pipe is lighted.** 

"Good; very good, my son. You are an excellent 
novice. That is the first step in knowledge. It is 
gained. Now we ascend to the second stage. Keep 
still; you must not rise just yet. Observe: I fill this 
glass with water; with punch, you would say; well, 
pnnch is water, with a dash of spirit, with a little acid ; 
in the main, it is water. I put it to my lips and sip one 
drop. Now, drink it off.** 

I did so. 

"Ilave you come to a full consciousness, my much 
beloved, of the universal prevalence and acceptance 
of the principle of water ? " 

"I think so. Put me to the test again.** 

"Good boy,** said my brother lawyer, "be grave 
and tranquil ; this is a secret thing. Now these two 
principles — the first principle being that of Light, 
the second principle being that of Water — are the 
Alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, the 
BQn and the moon, the positive and the negative, the 
ri;;ht line and the curve, the conscious and the uncon- 
^ious, the active and the passive, the male and the 
female. Their union is creation ; their divorce is 
chaos. Give heed to what I say ; remember by this 
lign '* — and he gave me a sudden tap on the forehead 
with his pipe. 

"That is the second step,** said my friendly teacher. 
**Kow come we • ... in the meantime you should 
hold on closely by the second principle • • • • to the 

f XASSJ: MirCKER. 40 

third anil final stage. Observe, again; I bare my 
bea<l, as a sign that everything is done in open day 
and ]>orfect innocence. I put tliis linen sheet round my 
hhouldcrH as a mark of my gliostly oitico. I invoke 
the gods to bless this work, and then march round and 
round you, sU>\vly drawing nearer until I touch, witli 
my ha!id, your coat, ytmr elbow, your knee, your 
lace; until, at length, I bend in loving triendship, 
raise you from the ground, and kiss your cheek. 
There, it is done ! You are now sealed to the circle 
— sealed by a senii^hic kiss. For life and death 

von are one of the Nasse Mucker Take somo 


'^ Thank you. And what, now, does this fooling 
moan ( 

*'It is the reply of fun to folly — of nonsense to 
pietism — of ....** 

" Were you going to siiy of the University to the 
** ll'm I Perhaps ! Yes, you are right." 
•i I have found it so. Between these two high soc- 

I lions of Prussian society there is, and has been now 
I lor many years past, a bitter feud; a feud which has 
I lasted long, and will last our time, since it arises from 
I the clash of mind and confiict of principles; lay- 
inon snarling at the sanctimonious pretensions of tho 
Church; Churchmen, in their turn, assailing and 
condemning what they call the latitudinariaii, not to 
say licentious, principles of the University. One day 
this fpnirrel has taken a dogmatic shape, another day 
] it has taken a personal shape. Now it has been a 
i question of Kant's atheism, anon it has been a ques- 
I tion of Ebefs morality. But these things are alluirs 
i of a day, while the true causes of this enmity between 
i philosophers and divines must be sought in tho nature 


of tlicir Btudica, and in tlio piirpoHCB to whieli they 
devote their powers. Wlien the chief cauise ia found, 
it will he variously dc«crihed, according to the point 
of view from wliich the writer makes his ohservation. 
Seen from tlie Tortico, it strikes him as no other than 
that hatred with which priests and their dupes liave 
in all ages met the advances of science and the liber- 
ties of thought Seen from the Altar, it appears to 
l»e no more, and no less, than that hostile spirit which 
the chiltlren of thisdeviTs kingdom have at all times 
MH»wn towards those ministers of religion who have 
been zealous for the thins^s of God. 

The Gennan churchmen call their opponents inA- 
dels; the laymen call their enemies Mucker. These 
two armies are not mifairly nnitched in strength. If 
nearly all the hiy students are on one side, most of 
tlic M'omen, even the mothers and sisters of these 
9tudeiits, are on the other. The men are divided into 
camps. If the great doctors and professors side with 
Mrience against theology; nuiny of those noble counts 
utid bannis who descend from the Teutonic Knights, 
and own the grass-lands and water-rights of Ost I'reus- 
»cn, siile with theology against science. 

Years ago, these two armies met — like the scoffers 
and believers in the llof Gasse on Monday night,— 
and fought, on u very old battle-iield, a pretty warm 

An ancient church, built near the Schloss by the 
Teutonic Knights, and known to the commons either 
un the Old Town Church, or the Luther Church, was 
nHting into ruin; when, to prevent people being 
killed by the falling stones, the Government gave 
orders to pull it down. This cdiHce had liecome dear 
to cverj- one, tVom the fact that a son of Martin 
Lotber had preached from its pulpit, and been buried 
aiider its ultar. Many persons, not of the University, 


hoped that a now church would be built on this sacred 
H|)ot ; but tlie need for openiuji^ up ground about the 
JSt'hlo88 was very great, an<l was pressed on the King 
Friedrich Wilhelm III. both on military and on sani- 
tary grounds. King Friedrich Wilhelm consented 
that the ground should be cleared and converted into 
a ]iublic (Kpiare; charging himself with the erection, 
in a neighboring street, of a new Old Town Church; 
an edifice which he commenced, and his son com- 
pleted, at\er a poor design, of warm red brick, in the 
(Sothic style. A stone, bearnig a few wonls of record, 
wa** placed over the site of young Luther*s grave. 

Now, this new square is in the best part of the Old 
T<»wn ; on the main lines of road from the Schloss to 
the Qiuiys, the Exchange, and the railway. Of all 
jilaccrt in Ko'nigsberg it is, perhaps, the very beat site 
for a public statue. 

Well, the honors of a public statue having been 
voted to the most famous man who has over dwelt in 
KJInigsbcrg, to Immanuel Kant, Professor Hosenkranz 
and his fellows in the University were anxious that 
this work of art should be erected in tljc Old Town 
Square ; as being not only the most conspicuous, but 
also the most a]>propriate spot. In that square stands 
a gymnasium, the high school of the city. Close to 
it rise the girl's school, the pauper house, and many 
other schools ; while near to it stands the house in 
which the great philosopher lived and taught. But 
the religious world — notably that part of the reli- 
gious world which we should call the High Church — 
w6uld not hear of such a thing being done. Kant, 
they said, was a philosopher and a free-thinker. IIo 
hafl no sense of religion. He set aside the gospels. 
Ho rejected Christ. How could they suffer these 
professors to plant the statue of such a man on holy 
ground! Were they Pagans and Jews that they 


52 sriRirrAL wtvKS. 

»Uoul<l Bet np Knnt «i£^aiii8t Lutlicr, a great bra«8 
miacre of the Critic of Pure Ucasoii agaiiiBt the modest 
•tone which commemorated the minister of God ? 

I'lie fight was long and fierce; and was only ended 
"y a personal reference to the King. 

One of the leading men on the religious side was 

^■*^f von Kanitz, a ])erson of high birth, and of mys- 

^*^ tendencies. This nobleman had been for many 

yourn a constant worshipper in the church which had 

'*o\v iieeu taken down. Sore trouble had fallen on 

. '•^ Tiiinister and congregation of that church ; trouble 

'■^ Whieh the Graf von Kanitz had borne his i>art; 

^^ the minister of that church was the renowned 

"Y^***^^**J<?ftcon Kbel, the man who had been silenced and 

-|J*^Smced as the founder of Muckerism; mainly, as 

^^itz thought, bj'the treacheries of these professora, 

*^il by the violence of their friends in high places; 

^^•l that minister, now ruined, exiled, killed, by these 

^^•^1 Relieving babblers of the University, the Graf von 

C^^^^iitz had conscientiously accepted as a man of God. 

^^xv could lie bo silent when this godless crew of 

^^Icnts and professors were trying to set up, on the 

^^' ground made holy by the martyr Ebel, a brazen 

5%ge of their idol Kant? 

^3raf von Kanitz rode to Berlin, sought an inter- 

^^^ with the King, and came back to Konigsberg 

^'t:h a royal onler in his }M>cket that some other spot 

^^^«t bo found for the statue of Immanuel Kant. 

y^ That Old Town Square is the scene of a story which 

^'^^ never yet been told. A fountain stands in the 

^^itro, and the rest of the ground is laid out with 

^^tiibs and walks. 

_ The official name which it bears is AltstUdtische 

The eoramon name for it is Mucker Platz, 



ciiArTER vn. 


N tlio month of February, 1842, the judges of the 

Hoyal Court of Berlin (Das Koniglielio Kammer- 

Ciericht) were busy with a cause which had taxed 

their time, and disturbed the conscience of Germany 

for many years. 

Tlie cause about to be finally decided in the supreme 
court (Appellations-Senat), had come before the bench 
in the i^hapc of an appeal from the venlict given by 
an inferior court (Criminal-Senat) in tlie previous reign. 

It was alleged by the appellants that the finding of 
the lower court was against the evidence; that tho 
decision was irregular in form ; and that the penalties 
imposed were in excess of the oiiences alleged. 

The cause was of a most unusual kind ; not only a» 
to its moral nature, but as to its legal history. In tho 
first instance, it had been raised in a local court at 
Konigsberg, from which city it had been removed, 
before any stage in the matter had been reached, on 
the ground that persons high in ofhce were exercising 
so mucli i!iflucnco in the court that justice would b< 
likely to fail, and two able and worthy clergymen t 
bo umlone. It had next been heard in tho lowc 
court of the Kammer-Gericlit, in Berlin. Karl Bare 
von Altonstein, the rationalistic Minister of PuW 
Instruetion (which office, in Prussia, has chargo 
j ecrclesiastical affairs), wjis thought to have been i 
5 liivomble to the defendants. The hearing had h< 


long; and when the vcnlict was given (Marcli, 1839), 
a Y»crio(l of no less tlian five monthft hud elapsed be- 
tween the finding of the court and the publication of 
t\xc sentence. This delay had given rise to a thousand 
^UApicions of foul play; the more freely, since many 
^^en who called themselves enemies of the two clergy- 
men owned that the sentence which had been pro- 
i^ouiiecd was far in excess of any reasonable demands 
^f justice. 

Within a year, King Friedrich Wilhelm the Third 

^J'iug, his son, Frieib'ich Wilhelm the Fourth, suc- 

<^'ee(led to the throne. In the same year Karl von 

•A'teiigtein died, an<l the pietistic Eichhorn succeeded 

''''o in the ministry of Public Instruction. 

A^hc worstAjd parties in the suit of 1839 now appealed 

_ Uiiist the finding of the Criminal Senate to the 

^^isTlicr court; and after a hearing which lasted for 

^^**^ years more, the court was about to pronounce a 

^*^lict from which there couhl be no appeal. 

^l^he matter before the supreme court was u scandal- 

* ^^ charge wliich had been raised, in the first instance 

-^ <i great nobleman of Ost Preussen, called the Graf 

^^•^ Finkenstein, against two clergymen, the Very 

.'^v. Archdeacon Wilhelm Kbel, and the Kev. Ilein- 

'"'^li Diestel ; a very scandalous charge, since it was 

•^^gwl against them, not only that their doctrines 

^^rc unsound, but that their lives were impure. 

^or did the fortunes of these two clergymen only 

f *^S upon the finding of their judge. In iK>int of 

»^*tmi, Archdeacon Kbel and Pastor Diestel were the 

^^Uy persona accused ; but the cry which had been 

^^cd against these gentlemen was of a kind that 

^^plied the guilt of many more. If Ebel had done 

^« wrong alleged against him by his enemies, the 

Vvtuers in his practices, since they must have shared 

A (.'liKAT ArJ'K.tL. 55 

Ilia guilt, woiiM Iinve to hoar the o«iiou« publicity 
ttttnchiii;; to liia criiiies. Tlio Hot of |ierM)iiB ho in* 
voIvc<l in the coiiacqiicDcca of this vhnrgc nas very 
long; coinprieiii^ n pood niniiy men, and yet more 
u-uincii, iif high birth iiiul strong position in the so- 
ciety of Oet PrcuBsen ; niid ull those persons, together 
Willi nearly ail their rumiliva and friends, siipiiorted 
Ebol and Dicstel in their appeal from what tliey culled 
local jeiil oil sy and provincial injnatice to the courts in 

The ni)pcal had lasted long, because the evidence 
tendered for accoptnnce by the court on both sides had 
been iitrangc, (ronflicting, and obscure. Things were 
alleged agaiiixt those clergymen of an all but incro^U 
iblc kind. Tlicy were accused of certuiii crimes fur 
which tlic Gcrniaii language su[)pUc«l no names, and 
(if whidi the rrnssian law could lake no note. These 
ehiit^;es, though itiiidc by men of rank, were supported 
by the evidence of spies and npostatcs; the chief of 
whom was Pixifessor Suchs; a man who lillcil, with 
groat distinction, a chnir of medicine in the University 
uf Kitnigriberg. On the side of the defence, not only 
wore these alleged oflences denied, but the witnesses 
who proved them, most of all I'rofesaor Suchs, were 
deiiiiiinced as wrclclies unfit to be henrd in a ooiirt of 
law. The old I'rnssian system of legal pruccdnro 
g!ivc a line tivid to snch causes; for the trial took 
]ilace with cloned doors, the witnesfcs wore never 
biMiight into court, and ail the dcjiositions were taken 
in writing. At the whim of cither party, anything 
wus put in as evidence ; books, prints, deeds, munu- 
scripts. In a case like that against Archdeacon Kbel, 
it is an open question whether counsel miglit not have 
put into court the whole royul library of Berlin. The 
proofa actually laid before the judges, evidence bear- 

sc sPinirrAL wives. 

i»^r ^^ ^^•^ oa«e; ran the wliole round of the sciences; 
uo less than ninety vohimes of written and printed 
m».^ter lying on their table; comprising, among things 
of leaser note, volumes of divinity, tracts on logic, 
bu »^ <llc8 of ecclesiastical history, essays on the nature 
of "^ lings, prayera and sermons, debates on final causes, 
an^Ll speculations on the destiny of man. These proofs 
co»-^ Allied prolusions on such topics as grace and 
^'^«*k8, the freedom of man's will, and the redeeming 
P^^^'v-cr of faith. They referred to spiritual afKuities 
*"^i mortal marriage. They defined the use and abuse 
^^ symbols. What could a legal tribunal make of 
"^'^^^i a case? 

^^rofcssor Sachs's evidence contained not only a 
'f^'^-cmcnt of facts within his knowledge, but an ettcc- 
"^'"^^ gallerj' of portniits, and a psychological study of 

^"^^ most curious kind. 

►ut the chief trouble of the judges, and the true 
^son why the trial was prolonged, is said to have 
. ^^^11, not so much the difiiculty of believing or rejcct- 
'"*^ Sachs, as that of either resisting or reconciling the 
"^"^^ King, in whom the accused clcrgj'men found a 
*^*^ Ions and powerful friend. 


"^ricdrich Wilhclm the F(»urth, King of Prussia, is 

^^^^^ of the few princes who in these liberal days have 

^n grossly calumniated and persistently miscon- 

^^^ved by us; though his domestic virtues and rcli- 

P^>U8 views were such as ought to have won for him 

^^^*ry English heart lie was neither a strong man 

not* ^ ^.jg^ man. lie had none of Cromwell's insight, 

^*^iie of Napoleon's dash. One grain of j>olitical 

8^tiiu8 would have given him what las happier 

^^^phew will one day find at his feet, the crown of 

^^rmany. But while Friedrich Wilhclm was in no 

^^se a daring prince, he was a kindly, generous, and 


faithful man; ft friend of scholars and travellers; a 
jrroat K>vor of art; a callector of anti<|iutics; u man 
of books and of study, who spent his happiest hours 
in the library and the picturc-p^llery, and preferreil 
the conversation of writers and discoverers to that of 
placemen and sobliers. It is hard for a king of Prns- 
Hia to bo anything beyond the general of a camp. 
Prussia is one huge barrack. Every man is trained 
to the use of arms; everything is done in uniform; 
and the king is chief drill-sergeant in his realm. To 
wear sword and plume, to review the guards, to hold 
military receptions, are nothing. The king is exi>ected 
to be a real soldier; to ]iass much of his time in bar- 
rack ; to have a great militxiry household ; to receive 
his general oIKccra at his table daily; and to live in 
times of peace the life of a commander in the field. 
Fricdrich Wilhelm could not free himself from the 
traditions of his house. He had seen Imrd service in 
his youth, and ho continued to play at the trado of 
war in his riper years. But the care of his army did 
not absorb his mind. lie gathered eminent civilians 
about him ; men like Humboldt, Bunsen, Itauch, and 
Kiss; friends of his heart on whom ho shed the light 
of his high place, and who will surround his name for 
ever with the radiance of their fume. He was exceed- 
ingly gentle in his manners. Ho was good and pious; 
more so, many of his people thought, than became a 

Yet, what is the notion of an ordinary English boy 
as to this good king? That his name was Cliquot, 
that he was in the habit of moping about rooms with 
a bottle at his lips, that ho got tipsy on champagne 
about twenty times a day. An English boy is taken 
by suq>rise, when told that this prince, whom he calls 
Cliquot, was a very poor tippler ; in fact, that whilo 


he ate (on necount of liis malady) enough for a giant, 
he drank no more than a child. 

It 18 one of thoftc thoui^and errors of fact in regard 
to Prussia, wliich made that glorious Seven Days' 
War a surprise to many among us; boys of all ages, 
and of very high rank. 

liis Majesty was a man of wide religious knowl- 
edge, and of deep religious feeling. He kept a keen 
eye upon researches and discoveries throwing light 
upon the Bible story. Bunsen enjoyed his confidence. 
The antiquities of Rome and of Kgypt engaged his 
attention. In connection with Queen Victoria, ho 
foundo<l the Protestant bishopric of Jerusalem. All 
his life he favored the Church, and the professors of 
divinity always found in him a friend. 

Perhaps, as some of his people murmured, he was 
apt to go further in his zeal for the Church than was 
pnident in the king of a country in which many of the 
inhabitants were rationalists, infi<Iels, and Jews. But 
he could not do these things by halves. A man of 
great natural piety, open to voices and promptings of 
the Spirit, he fancied he had received a call to pro- 
mote true go<Iliness on the earth. He felt a keen 
interest in revivals ; and seemed to be expecting that 
a great work of the Spirit would be done in his reign. 
Those exalted people in the Lutheran Church who 
are known as Pietists enjoyed his favor; and King 
Friedrich Wilhelm made no secret of his being a Pie- 
tist himself. In fact, he was a Pietist, and something 
more. lie w*a8 a believer in tokens and witches; nay, 
he was inclined to accept, thougii in secret only, the 
suggestions of sorcery and witchcrafl.^ He toyed with 
astrology, and had fitful dreams of enjoying the elixir 
of life. 

Is it aarprising that a prince with such leanings 

.1 ainJATAJTKAL 69 

8houKl be thought capu])lc, when bin im8Aioii8 hud been 
8tirrc<l, of taking a <lccisivc course in a matter which 
concerns the life and fame of two holy men ? 

In those old times, as the Prussian courts of justice 

Hat with cK)sc<l doors, no report of what took place in 

the Supreme Couit was given to the worhh Tho 

counsel may luive chattered in their dining-rooms, 

and the judges nuiy have tickled the fancies of their 

female frienils by hints of what was going on. Every 

one wished to liear the latest news; for how could a 

courtly an<l intellectual society be indiflcrent to a 

eausc in which the Schons, the Auerswalds, the Fin- 

kensteins, the von der Grobens, people in the highest 

ranks of the Prussian nobility, were all concerned? 

Why had Graf von Finkenstein turned persecutor? 

What had induced Professor Sachs to play the part 

of spy? Why had Pn>fes8or Olshausen given evi- 

den<*e against his former friends? IIow }iad the 

Ober-Priisidcnt come to act so sharply against these 

clergymen? What was the meaning of the strange 

report that Ida, Countess von der Gniben, had 1>ecome 

one of Archdeacon Ebcl's spiritual wives? What was 

a spiritual wife? Had the very reverend gentlemen 

any other of these spiritual wives? If so, how many, 

and who were they? 

j Society in J^erlin, in Konigsberg, in fact, in every 

j German city, was full of questions, to which the only 

i answers that couhl be g«)t were lame and niixj. In 

] the streets, it w;u§ only known that something waa 

t going on behind these closed doors of the Kammcr- 

J Gericht, in which the king took a close and personal 

1 interest; but the details of this mysterious trial ro- 

I mained unknown. 

I Even when the verdict of the court was published, 
1 it told the eager watchers next to nothing. In some 





parte it revcr«cd the finding of the lower court ; for 
it rcmovctl from the two clergymen the brand of in- 
famy and tho sentence of imprisonment. But tlien it 
jjave no rcaaon for tliese changes, and snpprcssed tho 
(letuilrt on which its own vcnlict ntood. Without the 
cvi<lencc of Sachs, the new finding could only be in- 
telligible to the parties concerned ; and on the trial 
coming to an end, that evidence given by Sachs was 
ficaled up by the judge and deposited in the archives 
of his court. All Germany believed that a royal in- 
flncnce had been made to weigh on the judges ; men 
who, in that Prussia which has since been swept away 
in the smoke of Konigsgriitz, were supposed to lead a 
Very bad life when the facts of a suit inclined them to 
do one thing and the king's will compelled them to 
do another. All these rumors were, no doubt, beside 
the mark; but the calumnies lieaped upon tlie prince 
by his enemies were tlie natural result of a system 
which conducted public causes with closed doors and 
with written evidence, instead of with open courts and 
witnesses face to face. 

The little that escaped through these closed doors, 
made people open tlieir eyes in wonder; for the things 
which were said to liave been alleged by Sachs against 
the two popidar preachers and their fair penitents, 
seemed to liint that the Teuton of our own day, a 
product of the highest civilization, is capable of dream- 
ing like Jacob Bohme, of preaching like Melchior 
Ibifmann, and of acting like John of Leyden. 

Was it true, as alleged, that two German clergymen, 
of high repute for sanctity, had been found guilty of 
committing Spiritual polygamy? Was it possible that 
in the nineteenth century a divine could pretend to 
have the right of marr}'ing one wife in the flesh, 
liuotber wife in the spirit? 


ciiAi'TEu vm. 


A FEW words dropt by Brigbam Young, in tlio 
cournc of a long reply to questions of mine on 
unother point, told nic that the Mormon Pope knew 
more than could he found in hooks ahout that doctrine 
of the Spiritual wife, which, in our own day, in the 
midst of our churches, and chielly, if not wholly, 
among men of Teutonic race, has tlowered out into so 
nnniy new amd surprising domestic fact^ : at Salt Lako 
Citj' into Polygamy ; among the New England spir^ 
ituni circles into AiKnities; at Mount Lehanon into 
Celibate Love; at Wallingfonl an<l Oneida Creek into 
Complex Marriage, and in a hundred American cities 
into some more or less open form of Free Love. 

In the neglect which has fallen upon everything 
connected with the progress of our moral life, it has 
been commonly sai<l that Sydney Itigdon, the first dis- 
ciple of any weight whom Joseph Smith drew into his 
Mormon tabernacle, was the man in whoso busy brain 
this doctrine of Spiritual wifehood had been bom. 
Kemy and lirenchley, who wrote with some care, 
assert that Kigdon invented the theory of the Spiritual 
wife ; and they assume that the repugnance of Mor- 
mon ciders to this invention was the chief cause of 
l{ig<lon being rejected as prophet, and expelled from 
the church after the death of Joseph Smith. Some 
such statement will be found, I think, in each of the 
few books which have, as yet, paid any attention to 


02 SPiniTrAL W1VK& 

tills furious subject. Yonn*^ Raid otherwise ; and a 

little inquiry ninonjic hucIi iViciids of mine ns either 

\vore or hud heeu ministers of religi«)n in Xew En<(- 

hmil ritios, soon showecl nie tliat, even as regards the 

hirttory of Si»iritnal wives in America, Young was 


J^yihiey Rig<Ion, at the time of his conversion hy 

l*arlcy Pratt, was the ]»astor of a church at Kirthuul, 

'»^ Ohio. lie had already changed his religion more 

^^»im once, as he afterwanis changed it again moiH) 

|^»iui once. He had heen a loud ranter, a hot revival- 

'*^; and after his conversion to the Monnon faith, ho 

*'"H)rc«l in his district among the more exalte<l mem- 

'^^8 of the most exalted sects. He knew the writings 

*^' ^Mahan^ Gates, and JJoyle-^ writings in which love 

fl"'^ niurriage arc consi<lored in relation to gospel 

'^crty and a future life. It is all hut certain that he 


\}y men havins; a right to woo and to win for them- 

. *^*o« brides of the sj/irit as well as wives of the flesh, 

^^'118 doing no more than giving a crude and prema- 

^ ^^ fonu to mvstical speculations then current in the 

-^**>rsand pulpits of Oberlin, riiiladelphia, and New 

•^^*cn. All the Perfect churches, beinif based on the 

ri ^5^t dogma of the saints having to live a life on earth 

. ^*^ from sin, pn»fesse<l to believe that marriage, in 

^ old and carnal shape, would pass away, and be 

^l^hiced in time by a new, a holier, and more lasting 

•^te. Oberlin, one of the chief centres of this Perfect 

^^od, is in Ohio, n few miles only from Kii*tland, 

where ]{igdon preached and dwelt. 

Wkat tbid Moriuou fuuatie taught Lis friends at 

iiri RITUAL WIVES. i» 

Naiivoo, lie Iind learned from people wiser than him- 
self. From wliom? 

The theory of Siiiritnal wivei* is not j-et forty years 
old in the United States; yet the see<l-plot and the 
source appear to he alike involved in haze and fog. 
Father Noyes, who Inis lived through every phase of 
it, and who has heen an actor in the business more 
than once, regards it us an eruption from the New 
England soil, which came ont, like a rash on the 
human akin, after the throes of a great revival, not in 
one place onl}', but in nnmy ]»laees, at the same 
moment of time. Warren Ohace, a man who is said 
to have had a wider pei'sonal experience in the matter 
than any other teacher, announces it as a gift of the 
Spirit, the last refuge of virtue in a pi^ofligate world. 
The Ivev. Hiram Sheldon, the original preacher of 
salvation from sin, at least in the burnt district of 
New York, had an inkling of it; since lie fonnd in 
Sophia Cook, one of his fair disciples, a kinship of 
soul which he had failed to perceive in his own wed- 
ded wife. The licv. Jarvis Uider, a preacher who is 
said to have had an experience among spirit-brides 
only less wide and general than Warren Chaee, con- 
siders it a necessary conse([uence of the Seeond Com- 
ing, of causing God*s will to be done on earth as it is 
done in heaven. Lucina Umiihreville, Mary Lincoln, 
and Maria Brown, three of those female witnesses who 
have publicly preached and practised it, either in its 
l>o8itive form of heavenly wifehood, or in its negative 
form of free love, announce it as a final revelation to 
their sex. Yet none of these male and female proaehers 
can pretend to say where the dogma was heard of first, 
and who has to answer for its introduction to the 
American religious world. 

I have received from sober witnesses in the United 



States, most of them proachcra and toacliors, a good 
many confcfti^ions on this Hu\>ject of the tirst appearance 
ill their midst of Spiritual wives. Some of these con- 
fessions I sliall lay before my reatler in the proper 
place. Some [»ersons trace the doctrine to the scan- 
dais caused in the religious world by the famous 
bundling at Briniiield, in Massachusetts. Others find 
the genu of it in tlie Battle- Axe Correspondence ; in 
whicli Father Noyes first roused the sects of New 
England into fuiy, by his declaration that in the true 
Church of Qo<l, the rite of marriage, like every other 
rite prescribed by the law, would be abolished. A 
fewy perhaps, gain a clue to the mystery in the writ- 
ings of Theopliilus Qates, a philosopher of the Quaker 
City, who is said to liave put religion on his shoulder 
as a cloak, under which he might openly proclaim, 
like John of Leyden, liis policy of a community of 
wives. Hiram Sheldon, John II. Noyes, and John B. 
Foot, have Imd the glory and the odium of this doc« 
trine cast upon them; glory and odium which they 
liave shared with Jarvis Kider, Horace Patten, Eras- 
mus Stone, and many more. Ann Lee and Andrew 
Jackson Davis might urge a bolder plea; but none of 
these preachers can make out his claim against the 
rest, for in truth, no one nuin or woman in America 
can be said to have invented the doctrine of Spiritual 
wives, wliich api>ears to have been less a work of men 
tlian a natural growth of time. 

It has not, I think, been noticed by any writer that 
three of the most singular movements in the churches 
of our generation seem to have been connected, more 
or less closely, with the state of mind produced by 
revivals; one in Germany, one in England, and one in 
the United States ; movements which resulted, among 
other thingSy in the establishment of three singular 








sooiotics — tho conixroj^ition of Pietists, vulgarly called 
the* Muokor, at KrMilg8hcr>r, the hrotluM'luMxl of Prince- 
ito8 at ^paxtoii, and the Bihle ConununiHts at Oneula 


These three movements, which have a great deal in 
common, hegan without concert, in distant parts of 
the world, un<Ier 8ci»arate church rule^, and in widely 
different social circuniBtanccs. The first movement 
was in Ost Preussen; tho second in Kngland; the 
third, and most important, in Massiichusetts and New 
Y(»rk. They had these chief things in common; they 
hegan in colleges, they alfected the form of family life, 
and they were carried on by clergymen ; each movo- 
mcnt in a place of learning and of theological study; 
that in Germany at the Luther-Kirch of Konigsberg, 
that in Kngland at ISt David's College, tlmt in tho 
United States at Yale College. These movements 
began to attract public notice much about tlic same 
time; for Archdeacon Ebel, the chief founder of 
Muckerism, announced tho year 183G as tho opening 
year of the pernonal reign of Christ; in that year tho 
Uev. Henry James Prince became n student of divinity, 
founded the order of Lampeter Bretliren, and received 
his pretended gift of the Holy Ghost; and Fatber 
Xoyes published the famous paper known as tho 
Hattle-Axe Letter. These three divines, ono Luthe* 
ran, one Anglican, one Congregational, began their 
work in perfect ignorance of each other. Ebel is now 
dead : but I have reason to believe that when ho pro- 
po8e<l his theory in the Luther church in his native 
city, lie had never heard the name of either Brother 
Prince or of Father Noyes. I can answer for the 
c»ther two; until a few months ago, Noyes had never 
hejird of Ebel, and Prince ha<l never heard of Noyes. 

Each movement wais regarded by its votaries as tho 


most perfect fruit of the revival spirit. In truth, the 
change which cunie upon the Huints from their elose 
ex|ieriencc of revival passion, was regarded by them- 
selves as in 6ome degree miraculous; equal in divino 
significance to a new creation of the world. When 
the storm had gone by, and the chaff had been swept 
away, it was seen in each country that a precious rem- 
nant had been tried and saved — brought into the fold 
of God, and freed for ever from the consciousness of 
sin. These heirs of clay had been made the children 
of light. In His elected ones the old Adam of the 
flesh was dead; a new Adam, perfect in the spirit, 
had been 1)orn. These fruits of the revival seem to 
have been equally received by the countesses who 
knelt at the feet of Ebel in Ost Preussen, by the 
dowagers and country gentlemen who swelled the 
ranks of Prince in Sussex and Somerset, by the crails- 
men who followed Noyes and Sheldon in Massa- 
chusetts an<l New York. They who had been called 
by the Limib, no longer dwelt on the earth, subject to 
itA laws and canons; they were no longer amenable 
to pain, disease, and death. They had risen into a 
sphere of gospel liberty and gospel light. A new 
earth and a new heaven had been created round them, 
in which they lived and moved by a new law. To 
some of them the decrees of courts and councils were 
as nothing; property was nothing, marriage was 
nothing, — mere rags and shreds of a world that had 
passed aivay. To all of them a new light had been 
given on the subject of spirit-brides ; the higher rela- 
tion of woman to man in the new kingdom of heaven. 




TlIK thcorj- of Siiiritnal "Wivoa, ns it nppcara to tlio 
I'linml niiii<l, mny be stntcd in n few worda; sinco 
to tlic onninl niiiul this nijntical iloctrine ia )mt a reli- 
jfioiinuiicl ronmntio (lix^iiinc fornu ulmniiiiatinii known 
in itoHtou mill New York under tlio niirno of Free 


Ill tliift cnninioii aspect, tho theory is, that a ninn 
wlio niny be oitbcr nnmiiiricd before tlic Inw or 
wedded to a woman whom ho cannot lovo an a wilb 
ehonld be loved, Miall have tlie right, in virtue of a 
htgltcr morality, and a more aaored duty than tho 
chiirchcA tcaeh liim, to ^ out among the crowd of liia 
female friends, and ceek a jiarltier in whom he Bball 
tind some epceial fitncas for a union witli himitclf; and 
when be has found such a bride of tlic w>ul, that lio 
shall liavc tho further right of courtiu;; her, even 
though she may have taken vows us auotlier innn'rt 
wife, and of entering into closer and sweeter relalioiDi 
witli her than those which belong to the comnmu 
earth ; all vows on his part and on her part being to 
this cud thrust aside us so much worldly waste. 8ucli 
would be the definition of Spiritual wifehood given by 
writers like Lizzie Dolcn and Warren Chace, the 
a)>uHtles and perhaps the martyrs of Free Love. 

But these words of tho carnal pen would express no 
more than part of tboso facts, as to apirit-bridcs, which 
are held by hui-Ii exalted twctK as tho Khelinns and tlio 


IVrfoc-ticmists. Iiidecil, a tlicory wliirh was simplj' 
Hilly aiul indecent, couUl hardly have arisen in any 
ciiureli of the Teutonic race. That the doctrine of a 
new rehition of woman to man, called Spiritual wife- 
hood, lias 8o ri^en, is an undouhted fact. I^e it bad, 
or be it p>od, this doctrine of gpirit-hrides id a i»ro- 
duct, not of the world and the flesh, but of the church 
and the spirit; a fact which forces it within the scope 
of our moral science, and renders it worthy of our 
keenest study. No one can deny that the advocates 
of Spiritual wifehood are, ami have been, for the most 
part ministers of the gospel, men of thought and learn- 
ing, men trained in our schools, armed with our 
diplomas, and actually charged with the cure of souls. 
To some of these men, {terhaps to all of them, the 
theory presents an aspect and receives a 8aneti<m 
wholly unlike what they ajipear when seen by the 
carnal mind. If it were not so, it would still be worth 
some etibrt to comprehend ; since the moralist would 
like to know bv what tniin of reasonini^ scholars and 
preachers could be brought to see their good in evil 
tilings, and women of blameless life could be induced 
to live ill a state which some men do not shrink from 
calling one of public shame. I^ut we can hardly doubt 
the sincerity of men who live accoixling to their lights, 
when they Iiave to do so to their grievous loss. 

The higher theory of Spiritual wives may be stated 
ill a few words. The common notion of a legal union 
between man and woman is an act of pairing for life. 
At tlic altar we promise to take each other for good 
and \\\^ for better and worse, engaging before tho 
worid to dwell together, cleaving one to the other, 
aud to Done else, until death shall part us. What do 
wc mean by these large words? That we take each 
other for life ami for life only? That tho bargain 


miwle in time is only ^o"l for lime? That tlio nftcc- 
tiotiB, mill llic tics wliicli bind tliuni, ceaRc with t)ie 
gnive? Ill short, do wo iiieim tliat iimrringo is r tcni- 
[lomry bond which has no part in onr eternal life? 
This is tlio usual teaching of the schools; and in all 
those countries wlicro tho Cliurch still reigns and 
rules, this view of tho mnrriago vow is never im- 
poaohcd by adverse decisions in a court of law. The 
vow is for life, and for the whole of life. If it lasts 
until the grave, it ends with the grave. The I^atin 
maxim is, Once married, always married. " What 
<io«l lias hound let no nnin put asunder," says the 
Wcatcm Chureh. The hnsbnnd shall be to his wife, 
the wife shall be to her husband only, until death shall 
break the seal, and tear tho rceortj. ISo far runs tho 
contract, and no farther. Death only makes men free. 

Now, this theory of a niarriago vow being good for" 
life — and only for life — is more than simply unsatis — 
factor}' to men and women of a certain typo of mind ;^ 
it is ubtiolutcly repulsive. Ilusbands who care noth- 
ing for their wives, wives who care little for their hus — 
bands, may learn to bear it. AVlicn there is no richtf 
estate of love, no subtle yearning, no blended lifc^ 
between the two sexes, thcy'cau look forwanl to thetf 
grave as to an end of their wedded bonds, if not wit^^ 
artlor, yet still without agony of soul But then, a^ 
tlic mystics say, in such a case, there has been no truc= 
nntrriagc, cither first or last. 8uch unions, they allege ^ 
are only partnerships in business and estate. Twer* 
properties, porhapa, have been made one; two family'' 
lines may have run into one stream ; a dull and lega-7 
act having been eolcmnizud with religious forms, anti 
beaiititied by omnge-bloHsoms and bridul benedictions. 
Such an ailiiir of trade, it is alleged, may end inont 
titly with tho hearse and shroud. But when n lna^ 


^V^G of true hearts has been blessed througbout by lovc^ 

^*^ WqU a8 by tbe priest ; when two young souls have 

^'^Uvnoiie in feeling, in desire, in aspirations; tbcn, 

M tliought of either husband or wife ever eeasing to 

'^^<1 that dear relation to the other, is hardly to bo 

^••tic The spirit kieks against tliat doctrine of a life 

. P^MTt^ even when the promise is that it shall be passed 

. ''^ ^ brighter and better world. Love, wanting no 

^"'-^•'later world, refuses to admit the thought of a sep- 

^.''^^^^^^d life. To true mates mamajrc is not for the 

- - ^^^^ now only, but for the time to come. Carnal 

^ have no dominion in the sphere of love. Once 
^d to each otlier, true mates desire to be always 
^d. Love seeks no change ; and why, if love is 
lal, should the union which makes it visible end 

• ^ the greater sleep ? Men, it is alleged, who have 
•^<1 their mates on earth can never fall back into 

■^ ^ ^ a view% To their eyes wedlock is a covenant of 

* with soul, made for all worlds in which there is 
ious life ; for the heavens above uo less than for 

^5arth below. 

is allowed that tliis theory of the lasting bonds 

vo may have its darker side. All men and women 

^lot happy in their chains. To many, marriage is 

^jjtakc ; for men propose, and women accept, too 

-^h by chance; often in haste, sometimes in igno- 

Y^ ^ ^^c, occasionally in pique. Misery follows; for 

^ "^ns such as these are certainly not made in heaven. 

^^ • ^ «t then ? Have wo two kinds of marriage ? — one 

^^ ^^^liich the happy lovers find their dearest bliss in 

^^^^ l»ope of an unchanging state ; a second, in which 

^.^ luckless jiartners wait in weariness of spirit for tlic 

^^^rcc that only comes by death? Who, say these 

^Vocates of celestial love, can doubt it Two orders 

^ ^larriage may bo seen in every street One match 


\ is happy, niiothcr haplcsj*. Here, then, lies the grand 
' distinction in tlie lives of men and women on this 
! planet:— Are they truly mated? 
\ In Knjxian<l» the reeling and writing public have 
i snireelv entered yet upon these questions. In Oer- 
\ many they have heen more debated, and the public 
J t'oeling hurt found expression both in the chureh and 
! in the courts of law. But still, it is mainly in the 

• New Worhl that the subject is being wrought out in 
\ a thousancl burty brains, ami by a thousand busy pens. 
\ I'ious souls in Jioston an<l New York arc asking, 
\ ♦»l)oertH true nuuTiagc on earth implya true marriage 
*• in heaven ? Can there be a true marriage of the body 
; without a binding covenant for the soul? Is not the 
'. rcid marriairc alwavs that of the soul ? Arc not all 
\ nnicuis which are of the body onI}% false unions?" 
\ Such are the questions put and answered, not only by 
: writers like Lizzie Dot en and Cora Hatch, leaders in 
I what is known in New York as the Progressive School, 
I but by religious teachers and preachers like Lucina 

* Unqihreville and Mary Lincoln. Such ladies answer 
■ boldly that all true marriages are good for time and 
J for eternity; that all natural unions, in which like 
j clings to like, are true unions; and that all other com- 
' binations of the two sexes, even though they have 
I been sanctioned by the law and blessed by the Church, 

are null and void. 
In England these revival zealot<9 have done a little : 
I in Germany they have done a good deal. There ia 
I no need to exaggerate their power. Ebel and Dicstel, 

though they had a great success, and disturbed the 
J secular universities of Germany, have gone to their 
\ rest, appearing to have letl behind them little beyond 
I the memory of a great trial, a few noble zealotn in 
\ Kouigaberg, Hanover, Elberfeld, and DreadeUi uud a 


liUrary of acrimoiiiouB pamphlets from the press. 
The teaching of Prince and Starky is a sign, the 
mcaninf]^ ^^ which we should try to master by a care- 
fnl study of the facts; but it is not likely to destroy 
the English rite. In Europe, the old forms of society 
are too strong for this innovating religious spirit to 
make swift and certain head. Our cities are full ; 
every inch of ground lias its guard; every opinion 
may be said to lie intrenched. Only those mission- 
aries who labor among the poor, and who promise 
their hearers a brighter earth, can make much way. 
Our canons are in force, and our corporations strong. 
Every man is a spy on his fellow ; and a majority of 
men in the higher ranks have nothing to hope, and 
ever)'thing to fear, from change. In such a society, 
where shall we find room for a new light, a new lib- 
erty, a new gospel ? 

In America, the field lies open. There tlie space is 
vast, the population sparse, the order new, the custom 
lax. The hamlet knows neither squire nor thrall. 
Jio venerable spire, no picturesque rectory, no storied 
tomb, invests the village pastor with something of a 
father*8 |H)wer. No man cares to ask what his neigh- 
bor thinks; and only under pressure of great excite- 
ment, ever dreams of interfering with what he says or 
does. In matters of religion, even more than in oth- 
ers, a Yankee is taught by his circumstances to give 
an<l take. 

The way in which people come together in a new 
place compels them to adopt a tolerant habit of mind, 
not only in respect to doctrine, but to all that flows 
from doctrine. Some dashing fellow in quest of for- 
tune falls on a good thing; it may be a sheep-run, a 
waterfall, a petroleum-well, a eoal-tield, a pine-wood, 
MU alluvial bottom ; he builds a shed on the sjKit ; bo 


calls in liia friends ; he sends the news of his good 
hick about, and in a few months a crowd of settlers 
may have squatted round his shed. Shanties are built^ 
and streets laid out. A store is run up, a post-oflico 
is opened, a forge is built Corner lot« arc marked 
for sale ; the mule-track is beaten into a road. If tlio 
good thing turns out well, a liome is made in tlio 
great waste ; but for years it may be doubtful wlictlier 
the new thing is good or not; therefore, wliethcr the 
place will grow into a city, or relapse to the brambles 
and the wolves. Meantime the children need a school, 
the women want a church. How are .the men to sat- 
isfy thcHC wants? Among the fifty families drawn to 
the spot, there may be members of twenty diticrent 
sectj*. In New York they would liaixlly sit on the 
same bench ; in New Haven tliey would (metaplior- 
ically) tear each other's hair. Itut when they get 
away into tlie Wcrttern country, they have neither 
time nor wish to indulge in these luxuries of city life. 
Tented on the edge of the desert, with the wolf and 
the redskin prowling near their farms, their days and 
nights have to be spent in a round of mutual watch- 
fulness and mutual help. Their passion spends itself 
on nature, and when they want to curse an enemy, 
\ they fall upon the Indian brave. Being laymen, not 
much read in divinity, they find that some roiigli com- 
promise of form and faith may be easily made, if not 
easily kept All Yankees who go to chureli deliglit 
in singing and in prayer, for which they seem to enjoy 
some special gifts. Tlie Psalms of David and the 
Lord's Prayer supply them with the bases of a com- 
mon service, suited to their simple tastes. A chapter 
from the Bible read by some farmer, with now and 
then a sermon from a preacher wlio chances to come 
that way, and is willing to oblige, satisfies their spirit- 


ual wanU. The wftiidcrcr may preach any doctrine 
or no dcKitrine ; he may bclonff to any sect or to no 
Beet ; if the people like what he miys, they will give 
hinfi hi« dinner and dollar; if they like him very 
much, they nniy invite liim to stay among them, and 
'when tlicy feel strong enough to build, they may raine 
him a log church. It 18 in this simple way, and hy 
this natural law, that churches grow in the great West- 
cm country ; not from the choice of those who make 
them, but from the pressure of a force beyond man's 
will. Li all these churches, the preacher is of more 
importance than his book; the man rules in place of 
the canon ; hence the widest field is thrown open to 
personal daring, personal genius, and even personal 

Thus we may comprehend how wide and lasting 
may have been the effect of a revival wliich turned 
half the higher ranks of tliis people, both men and 
women, into preachers. 

One result of this great revival was to bring into 
existence the Perfect Church. This church, profess- 
ing to be holy, and claiming to be founded on the 
writings of St. Paul, was parted from the first into 
two brandies : the Xew York Branch, of which Hiram 
Sheldon was the chief; the New Haven Branch, of 
which Father Noyes was the chief. Both these 
churches ran into some fomi of either Socialism or 

Atler this great revival, ending in a new Pauline 
Church, had spent itself, a great reaction set in. Paul 
was put away in face of Owen, Fourier, and Davis, 
and the pmfessors of holiness were jostled by scien- 
tific socialists and table-turning spirits. 

Judge Edmonds recently declared that in the United 
Slates four millions of men and women believe iu 


Warren Cliacc aflirms tliat all these Spirituali^tH 
accept the doctriue of npecial afKnities between man 
anil woman; affinities which imply a spiritual rela- 
tion of the sexes higher and holier than that of mur- 

One assertion may be high above, the second may 
be much beside, the mark ; yet no one who know*8 
the facts can doubt that in America great numbers of 
men and women put their faith in spirits, and that 
anuHig these men and women not a few accept tlio 
doctrine of natural mates. Such women believe in 
spiritual husbands; such men believe in spiritual 
wives. All these persons are known to bo restive in 
the married state. During the late war, a Southern 
paper took some pains to show that in a given year 
more wives ran away from their husbands in tlio 
North than slaves from their masters in tlie South. 

Whence has come this spiritual movement? Who 
shall say ? Of one fact we are sure. Spiritual wives 
were known among the Ebelians, in the high circles 
of Ost Preussen, twenty years before the name was 
heard in either Massachusetts or New York. 




JOHANNES WILIIELM EBEL, a man deacending 
from a long line of humble and pious clergymen, 
was bom in 1784, in the Pfarr-house, his father's 
manse, at Passenheim, one of the many small lake- 
towns which exist in the province of Ost Preussen, 
near the Polish frontier. His father was a country 
clergyman; and his grandfather, now an old man, 
had also been a country clergyman; but was sus< 
pended from his office of preacher on account of cer- 
tain mystical ideas which ho had made public on the 
coming of a Paraclete in the flesh. From this old 
man the child may have derived a turn for dreamy 

Wilhelro was a lovely child, and grew up to be a 
very handsome youth. Boru in a pastor's family, he 
was used to the saying of prayers and the singing of 
hymns from his cradle. When he was ten years old, 
he knew much of the Scriptures by heart; being able 
to repeat long passages by rote, most of all from the 
Psalms, the Prophets, and the Song of Songs. In 
his reading of the New Testament, he showed a strong 
preference for the Book of Revelation and for the 
Gospel of St. John. 

When he was sent, as a lad of parts, to the local 
school, he showed by so many signs his tendency to- 
wards a learned life, that the good pastor, his father, 
was advised by his neighbors to send him up from 


ihc dull lake-town cm tlic Polish frontier, a place of 
peasants and fishermen, to the brilliant capital of OmI 
Treussen, in which Inimanuel Kant waa then lecturing 
on logic and philosophy to crowds of students, whom 
his genius had drawn from every town in the old 
Fatherland of Ost Preusson. 

Though the good pastor was proud of his son, ho 
was also full of fcarn. The spirit of the great city 
was sceptical and materialistic ; earnest religion was 
a thing unknown ; the theological classes were de- 
spised by students of medicine and law ; and even in 
the chairs of divinity there was neither light nor zeal. 
Yet, he gave way at last; in the hope that his boy 
would keep a pure heart in the city, and become a 
useful servant to his Church and his God. 

lie was a poor lad, with a great talent for getting 
on. The life of a student of divinity was in those 
times hard enough ; for the students were drawn as a 
rule from the humbler ranks ; from the homes of small 
farmers, citizens, and tradesmen ; and most of them 
had to go through their course on incomes of ten or 
twelve [>ounds a year. A lad paid eighteen pence a 
week for his room ; he got his dinner at the free-table 
of his college (which our friends here call the Con- 
victs* txible); he borrowed such books as he might 
need ; and lie procured from the professor a remission 
of his fees. The chief expenditure was in beer. 
]S*early all German students range themselves into 
clubs, or sets, which meet in the evening two or thrco 
times a week, to talk politics, to chop logic, to smoko 
pipes, and to drink small beer. This beer is cheap; 
but then the thirst for it is great ; since a learned man, 
engaged in either singing a patriotic song or demon- 
strating the subjectivity of matter, requires not less 
in the course of a lotig evening than a dozen pints. 



libol, a 8tu<lcnt in theology^ would have to take liis 
place in one of the poorest of these college clubs. 

This wild not a thing to gall him. Ho knew his 
place, and kept it, until a chance should come in his 
wnv to rise. What moved his soul, was to find how 
many of his fellow-students, youths who were going 
into the church, laughed at his prayers, and made a 
burlesque of the Bible. Even in the higher forms of 
divinity he met with men who placed the Critique of 
Pure Ueason high above the Word of Qod. How 
could he square such preference with the lessons which 
he had learned in his father's house ? 

In those Iiard times, Wilhelm could not pretend to 
say that his soul was free and his mind at rest. They 
were not Doubts still haunted him. Who could 
unveil to him the mystery of life? who could explain 
the innermost soul of things ? who had yet fathomed 
the destiny of man ? in what learned book could he 
find secular knowledge made one with celestial love ? 

In fact, while the lad was plagued in his conscience 
by a thousand fears, he was forced to admit that some 
of those rationalistic scoffers, who drank much beer 
and made much fun of him in their cups, had an easy 
task in pointing out the many dangers which beset 
oar attempts to justify the ways of God to man. But 
tlie secular knowledge which he was fast acquiring in 
the class-rooms of Konigsberg, instead of choking in 
him, as in many young fellows, the good seed sown 
in his heart by early study and parental care, only 
served to supply these living germs with plenty of 
nourishing soil and refreshing rain. While be paid 
sneh attention as he must do to language, history, and 
logici so as to win his B. A. degree, his favorite read- 
ing lay among the early Fathers and the old Qerman 
divines. He pored over the lives of saints. He 


copied niul pondered the Hpeculations of niyBtics. \l 
gave up his days to reveries and dreams. lie fouiu 
in these contemplations, if not a way out of all hi 
troubles, a peace which the world could neither giv 
nor take away. Yet he led, on the whole, an activ< 
and a fruitful life"; for even in these early years th- 
young student of divinity was engaged us a privat 
tutor in noble families, and as a religious instructo 
in Indies* schools. 

One of the pati'ons whom he gained in these earl; 
days was the Gnif zu Dohna-Sehlodien, a member o 
one of those mediatized princely families who stil 
retained, in social mattera, their sovereign rank. Th 
Dohnas were connected by marriage with the reigr 
ing house. Ebel became private tutor to the prince' 
8i>ns, and when the boys had finished their course o 
home-study, Dohna appointed Ebel, as a reward for hi 
lal>or, to the curacy of llerinsdorf, the living of whic 
w<as in his giil. After some doubts, p]bel accepte 
this charge of souls; but he missed the city life an 
the ladies* scliools; and when a chair fell vacant in th 
Friedrich*s College, a gymnasium in the Burg PlaU 
with a church attached to it, he resigned his living ii 
llormsdorf for a smaller stipend and a larger sphen 
I His church in the city was obscure; but the youn 
j preacher very soon filled it with an eager and admirin 
«ji\>wd ; drawing ladies of rank and fashion away froi 
the cathedral and the Altstadt church into the Bur 

Yet his mind was vexed by many doubts : not b 
doubts of the primary order, which, when they exij 
at all, must have a spiritual source ; for his mind wi 
clear as the love of God, the resurrection of Chris 
the life of the world to come ; but by doubts of tl 
secondary order, such as, when tliey exist at all, mm 


Lave a scicntinc source: for lie liad not learned to 
grasp those vngue phenomena, known fls the nature 
of things and the destiny of man. 

When Ebcl had a few dsxys of leisure from duty, 
he would run down from the great city in which he 
was now become a sinning light, to the lake-town, 
where he could talk with his father about his pros- 
pects and his griefs. The p(H)r pastor listened to his 
tale; laden with a trouble so unlike his own; which 
arose, for the most part, from his frequent failures to 
make five thalors go as far as ten. Under his father's 
roof in Passenhcim, Ebel heard the name of a man 
who was to shape the course of his future life. This 
man was said to have solved the mystery of the uni- 
verse : having hit upon a great secret, by means of 
which he could explain the nature of things, reconcile 
I»hilosophy with religion, and harmonize liberty with 

The name of this man was Johann Ileinrich Schon- 
herr; of which the young student made a note. 

On Ebel's return to Konigsberg, a great promotion 
for so young a preacher fell in his way. The post 
of au Adjuncten-stelle, deacon's assistant, had be- 
come vacant in the Altstadt church : that high place 
ill which, after the old fashion of a Prussian field- 
clay, the cream of society were wont to ofter up, 
in fur coats and pink bonnets, the sacrifice of a eon- 
trite heart. To these high-born people the deacon's 
Assistant had to preach : an ofiice which w*as not an 
%i9»y one to fill : even when he could do his duty in 
the usual way, with a dull formality, only just relieved 
from drowsiness by secular art and wit. Provincial 
f^ouDtesses are everywhere hard to please : and they 
are most of all hanl to please when they live in a 
great city, far fi-om the capital, yet vying with the 


metropolis in education and iu taste. Nothing less 

than a man of lino figure, of winning manners, and of 

eloquent tongue, couUl witisfy the fair critics of the 

Old Town church. 

All these things they found in the young and clo- 

: qucnt Trofcssorof Keligion in the Friedrich's College, 

i whose chief duties had hitherto lain in visiting ladies* 

\ schools and teaching hoyish counts the elements of 

j their creed. A crowd of candidates presented them- 

w Helves for selection, and from thin crowd of candidates 

' Wilhclm Ebel carried away the prize. 

Tall, stately, gracious ; a fair scholar; an eloquent 

proaelier, with a touch of roughness in his style; the 

young deacon's assistant proved himself the very man 

{ for his high post The great church filled with hcar- 

\ ors; EbeFs sermons became popular; and his sayings 

^^ in tlie pulpit were carried about the streets. For the 

i young assistant was bold, sentimental, and original ; 

\ never scrupling to throw into his most solemn pas- 

.: Huges a homely phrase, an old saw, a snatch of song, 

even a touch of comedy, which all but forced his 

) hearera into shouts of mirth. He could be as grave 

^ as Stanley, as sportive as Spurgeon ; but the aim of all 

• his etibrts seemed to bo the awakening of souls to a 

j quicker sense of the religious life. 

! This church, in which his vocation had come to lie, 

^ was known in the city as a ladies* church; and Wil- 

i helm Ebel was in every way a lady's man. From his 

father's father, a pietist and a mystic, who had dreamed 

< strange dreams and seen strange visions, a prophet 

I who had toyed with the Book of Revelations, and 

J had ventured on predictions which were never verified 

J in fact, Ebel had derived the warm spirit of a believer 

; iu things unseen ; a spirit which is said to exercise 

> the most stupendous power upon a certain class of 

; female minds. p 



Ebcl had been a dreamer from liis youth ; and ho 
uevcr ceased to dream until ho met, in the living 
flesh, that strange man of whom he had heai*d, in the 
Passenheim manse, as having made a wonderful dis- 
coverj', by which he could reconcile freedom with 
authority, and man with God. 

This man ho encountered on the Pregel wharf, 
preaching his gospel to a crowd of sailors, carpenters, 
and clerks. 



SCIIONIIEKU was not tlic original name of tliis 
man's family ; but one which had been given to his 
fatlier, a ])ious and stalwart grenadier in one of Fatlier 
Fritz*s infantry battalions, on account of his good 
looks. The handsome grenadier had been called 
8chunhagen; but, on being taken prisoner by the 
Austrians in Silesia, he had received from his captors 
the complimentary name of Schonherr; by which his 
son, the Pauper Paraclete, is known. 

This son, Johann Ileinrieh Schonherr, was born at 
Memel on the Kussian frontier, in 1771, the year of 
Father Fritz's entry into Poland. The mother, whose 
maiden name was Demoiselle Oik, a woman of deep 
piety, was of Angerburg, a town in CXst Preussen ; to 
which place after the birth of their son, the young 
couple had retired. When the lad was fifteen years 
old, ho had been sent to the capital to learn a trtide. 
Pleased to see the fine city, to hear the great preach- 
ers, to watch tlio students and professors, Schonherr 


liad utill ft J^onl above carpentry aiul suchlike. So he 
read the Hihle wlicn he Miould have been miiidinji^ 
1118 work, and lingered about the colleger, nskin^if 
<jucstion« which nobody could anwwer, when he ought 
to have been counting hia gro8chen. Of books bo 
know little; but the debates which took him most 
wore nuch as the working classes fancied were then 
being raised by Inimanuel Kant. As he grew moro 
and more unquiet, it occurred to him, as a novelty, 
that a little reading might do him good. Then it 
came into his mind that he would read about good and 
ovil, about faith and work.H, and become n shining 
light in the religious world. 

After having wasted two whole years in dawdling 
about the ganlens and the bridges, he went back to 
Angorburg, and told the ohl grenadier that he wanted 
to preach, and not to work. 

To this end he must go to school ; since in Prussia 
no one is allowed to teach others who has not himself 
been taught. A school might easily be found in 
Konigsberg, the city of colleges and schools, even for 
persons of the poorest and most unlettered class. Low- 
est of all these schools was the pauper-house, in the Alt- 
stadt; a place to which every child was admitted, not 
only without payment, but without cxandnation ; and in 
which he was not only taught, but fed. To this refuge 
for ignorant and destitute lads, Schonherr went at the 
age of seventeen, hoping, in a few months of study, 
to prepare himself for admission into a higher scliool. 
Ihit his chance of living a scholar's life was gone by; 
he was too old to begin a regular course of study. In 
the pauper-house he stayed two years; trying to read 
books on theologj' and divinity; and finding them 
haifl to understand. At length, ho gave tliem up, 
ubsen-ing that the liiblc was false, and that theology 


and divinity were only tricks of Bpcech. He could 
not make up his mind, he said, to become a teacher of 
things which he knew to be wrong. 

When lie was about twenty-one years old, he began 
to sit in the philosophical classes of the University, 
and to ask questions of the professors about the im- 
mortality of the soul, and the etenial destiny of things. 
They told him to read, and they gave him lists of 
books to consult ; which he thought was a mean sub- 
terfuge on their part. After the first half-term he 
threw philosophy to the winds, as he had previously 
thrown divinity to the winds. Was this empty jargon 
all? Were these Konigsberg pretenders the only 
learned men ? He would go into the world and sec ; 
eo, taking up his staff and wallet, he trudged, as only 
a German student can trudge, to the university towns 
of Ureifswalde in Pomerania, and to Rostock in Meck- 
lenburg, seeking for a better light At Kostock he 
found his money failing him ; and with a stomach as 
empty and craving as his head, he walked thence 
through Hanover to Lemgo, in Lippc Detmold, fa- 
mous for tlie turning of meerschaum pipes, where 
some of his kinsfolk lived. Tliesc good people gave 
him a few thalers, and sent him on to Kinteln, a small 
town on the Weser, by the bank of which stream ho 
made diat grand discovery of the dual principle of 
nature, the masculine and feminine elements in things, 
which was to occupy the lioyal Courts of Justice in 
Berlin for so many years. 

The poor lad was sitting by the margin of a pool, 
when he noticed some plants floating in the water, 
and the question came to his lips, — **How do they 
grow there ? " 

As he pondered on the mystery, a voice awoke in 
hitf couscioasness and said, ** It is water." 


He listened to it once again. ** As it grow8, so it 
lias grown/' said the voice. Sclionhcrr would not 
believe it; but on trying to find arguments in his brain 
against wliat the voice had said, lie could not. Pon- 
dering much on this great principle of being, he came 
to own that it must bo true. ^^Itain, dew, every 
nu»isture needed by plants — every shoot which, the 
younger it is, the more full of juice it is — everythhig 
was clear.*' This law of life, then, so clear to Schon- 
herr, w*as the first principle of the universe ; that he 
could see ; but he could not tell as yet how the solid 
world could have arisen out of the rupiid, the plant 
out of the pond. This tmuble was soon ended. How 
docs the perfume escape from plants? 

Ah, he cried in ecstasy, by the warmth ! *• Sun, fire, 
light, — all of which come from n single principle, — 
Light — solidify the moist.** Now he felt that he had 
got the results of nature in his grasp. Light is the 
male, the vivifier; Water the female, the nurse. 
Kureka! These two arch-beings — the supreme nude 
and the supreme female — bound in eternal and in 
necessary wedlock, explain everything; for in this 
great wedlock of principles lies the only chance of the 
seed of things being brought to life. 

Schonherr felt that this sudden gift of insight was 

no accident of time and place. It must be more ; a 

revelation from on high ; a working of celestial love 

in his soul ; a pouring of the divine will into his spirit 

To what end could these gifts be sent ? Why was he 

chosen, and for what ? Could these things be done of 

God for any other purpose than to prepare the world 

fi)r His coming? And what was he who bad been 

called and sanctified to do His will ? The divino being 

must work through a divine agent Was not he, tlien 

— he, the selected one — the Paraclete mode flesh? 


Armed with this great discovery of the two arch* 
beiniTrt — the lis'lit and the water, the male and tho 
female — which he thouglit would quickly replace tho 
crude jargon taught in the schools under the names 
of science and divinity, the Pauper Paraclete walked 
to Gottingen, to Jena, to Lcipsic, to Konig«berg; in 
ouch of which cities he explained his dual doctrine, 
tnid announced himself as tho Paraclete made flesh. 
As he trudged along the road, he called on the village 
pa8toi'H,and made known to them his message; begging 
food and drink; and telling the divines they must 
cither accept him as the I'araclete, or be damned. 
One poor fellow whom he threatened with the divine 
vengeance, was sore afraid; forSchonherr told him in 
sepulchral tones, that, if he refused to believe in light 
and water, the Father would that <lay strike him dead. 
The pastor begged for a few minutes to say his prayers ; 
in praying he recovered his strength ; and when ho 
rose from his knees, he kicked his visitor down the 

In Leipsic, Schonherr made a friend, if not a con- 
vert, in Ilerr Sachse, who listened with wonder to his 
tide of how a man may come to a knowledge of tho 
truth : not by inquiry, not by logic, not by travel ; but 
l)y a simple exercise of faith. Srhonherr said it had 
Wu given liim to know what was true and what was 
false ; for his eyes hud been opened by the Lord, and 
nicu who would be saved from death must take him 
at his word. He was the Paraclete ; and the Paraclete 
asked no proof beyond itself. The sun requires no 
witness of its warmth. One morning, after a snow- 
storm, tho prophet, entering into Sachse's room, asked 
him wliich was the highest mountain in Thuringia ; 
ou which Sachse named the Kyfllitiuser, the famous 
kill of Barbarossa. **I must go to it,*' said his friend. 

Tin: PA vri:n pa ha ( 'lktk. 

Saclisc, tliiukiu<^ him faint from hunger — hit 
complaint — called for a flask of wine, and poui 
into a glass which happened to have the shape 
chalice. Schbnherr snatched the glass, and oi 
the wine to Sachse in the manner of a sacmi 
saying : — 

•*0 God, how wonderful arc thy ways! " 

Sachse, under the fear that he was mad, pro< 
an order for his confinement; took Iiim, on pre 
of a walk, to the asylum; and then told him th 
the moment he was not free to go away. 

" The friend I love most hetniys me,*' cried the 
prophet; who sat down and wept. 

In his mild prison Schcinherr hegan a forty 
fast of purification ; for four whole days he too 
food, cither meat or drink; and would certainly 
died, but for the lucky suggestion of a disciple, 
told him that all the holy prophets ate lioney, a 
tial manna which could not break his fast. S 
that the Pauper Paraclete was gentle and han 
people felt compassion for his case, and some char 
Houls gave liim money enough to buy food and 
for as many days as it would take him to walk 
from Leipsic to Konigsberg; a city which ho a 
described as his native place. In passing thi 
I^erlin, he excited some attention; for the Pi 
IVophet was tall and liandsomo like his fatlie 
grenadier; and like the old Letts of Ost Proussc 
wore his beard down to his waist, his gabardine 
\ feet. 

On reaching Eonigsberg, ho found that his 
had come before him ; and he made the acquain 
of two or tliree young divines ; among othera of 
helm Kbel, Hermann Olshausen, and Ileinrich Di 
young men, students of divinity, who wore dra\ 




Inm mainly by a doctrine which he derived from hia 
theory of the two arch-hcingSy light and water; 
namely, that the day of canial love is pant, and that 
all the love permitted in a true Cliristian common- 
wealth is Spiritual love. 

Ebcl, who was now getting on as a preacher, intro- 
duced him to Graf von Kanitz, whom he recognized 
as an angel in the Apocalypse, and to Fraulein Minna 
von Derschau, in whom he saw the Bride of the Lanib. \ 
Through these great persons the Pauper Paraclete ! 
might have been able to push his way; but tliat he ;; 
ehose to find his friends among the poorer ranks, 
among the boatmen of the Prcgcl, the glovers in the [ 
Lobenicht, the peasants from the surrounding fanns; J 
whom it was his pride to gather about liim ; and who \ 
liked to drink their beer and smoke their pipes, while | 
I'lHtcning to his sermons on the Book of Revelation ! 
and on the coming of the Judgment Day. 

With Schiinherr's gift of insight, it was easy to \ 
read the mysteries of the seals. All the men who ] 
came about him were identified by him as angels in 
the Apocalj'pse. Ebel was the first witness; Kanitz 
Was an angel ; Diestel was known as the opener of the 
Seventh Seal ; and Schonherr changed the name of 
this eminent disciple from Ileinrich Diestel into Ilein- 
rich Sicgelbrecher — Henry the Unsealcr. 

With the exception of a short piece of writing j' 
called The Victory of Divine Kevelation, Schonherr \ 
confined his eflbrts to the platform; from which ho [: 
preached two free sermons a week to anybody who \ 
Would come to hear him. Some of these sermons ; 
Were preached at midnight The tall figure ; the long 
Wrd ; the masses of curly hair, covering his shoulders 
like a mantilla; the broad-brimmed hat, under which 
beamed a striking face; the garb of Oriental cut. 




imprortsotl tlie oyos of a stnini^cr. In tlic pulpit, ho 
\v;w very jM>\vcrtul ; mo8t of all 80 wlicii he knelt in 
prayer, for which ho seemed to have a special gift. 
The clergy were not unkind to him ; even the philoso- 
pherri troatiMl him with the forhearancc due to an 
idiot. One tlay he went to Immanuel Kant ; to whom 
lie wished to make known his great secret that all 
living things consist of light and water. ** Very well/* 
said the expounder of Pure Keason ; ** have you tried 
to live on them?" 

It was a new idea to Schiinherr, who went home and 
tried the experiment for three whole days, when ho 
heeame too weak to resist, and the people about him 
thrust some food into his mouth. 

lie never married, because ho thought marriago 
useless, if not wrong. Once he fell into love; fancy- 
ing it might be pleasant to have a wife in his lowly 
hi»use. The lady on whom he smiled was Minna von 
Derschau, the lovely and Iiigh-born girl whom he had 
recot;:nized as Bride of the Lamb. Her father, Miyor 
vou Derschau, had been killed in the field, and whilo 
she was sulfering in heart from this terrible loss, tho 
old fellow made his oticr, and she consented to beeomo 
\ his wife. Friends, however, came between them; 
j simc the only marriago he could offer her was a 
i ^Spiritual union; no closer and warmer than a Shaker 
bond. The young lady was now kept away from 
Schonherr*s conventicle; and the preacher himself, 
who had perhaps been afraid of his folly, gave out 
that these bridals had been put off by a messenger 
from on high. In his sermons ho had always hold to 
the dogma that the days of marriago aro gone by; 
that in the new heaven and the new earth thero will 
he neither marrying nor giving in marriago; and that 

the desire of men and women t4> become husbands 



aiul wives is a sign of Beelzebub's empire in the 

Some persons in Ost Treussen, crazier tlian the 
Pauper Paraclete himself, culled upon Archbishop 
Borowski to arrest and bring him to trial for blas- 
phemy, in calling himself the Paraclete made flesh ; 
but this sage ecclesiastic^ atler making some inquiries 
about him in the city, refused to set the law in motion 
a^rainst a man who seemed to believe in what he said. 
and who appeared to be doing no harm. Archbishops 
are not so easily led away by passion as men of inferior 
rank in the Church. 

Attempts were made to ruin him through a still 
lii^her quarter. On King Friedrich Wilhelm III. 
paying a visit to liis royal city of Konignberg, some 
foolish people insisted on thrusting the ravings of this 
poor Paraclete on his Majesty's notice. Dantel Sehlcicr- 
macher, the renowned theologian, said a few words to 
Uic King in Schonherr*s behalf; and the Graf von 
Dohna-Schlobitten, as the King's minister, issued a 
royal rescript, commanding that the poor preacher 
should bo left alone, on the ground that his intentions 
were good and his theories harmless. 

One of Schonherr's crotchets in his later days wus 

to build a new vessel on the Prcgel ; such a model us 

the world had never seen ; a cross between Noah*s ark 

and a modem steamer. All his orders about this 

boat had been taken in a dream. It was to be called 

the *'Swan : '* and was to be built in faith : in that faith 

^'liich removes mountains. It was to be a celestial 

"''ip« with the power of sailing against wind and tide, 

0/ moving without sails, without oars, without liorses ; 

^^ norpassing in speed the smartest clipper in the 

^ttio Sea. Strange to say, he found men on the 

^Sol wharf who had faith enough in his teaching to 


carry out these plans. The iiierchaiits gave him tim- 
ber, the arliwiiiH lent their flkill. The ark was actually 
built and launched. Unhappily, the men who worked 
upon the model had done so in a worldl}* spirit, and 
not in the faith which works miracles. When it was 
put upon the water it would not float ; it sank into the 
mud, and lay near the Prcgel bridge until it was 
broken up. Such are the effects of unbelief! 

To the last day of his life the Panper Paraclete 
a^^serted that he could never die, seeing that he had 
already died, and been born again. With this asser- 
tion on his lips, he passed away at Juditten, near 
Konigsberg, at the premature age of fifty-five. 



IT will always serve as a puzzle for ingenious men 
to explain how a student of Kbel's powers should 
have been led to accept this jargon about light and 
water as a true system of philosophy ; still more, how 
a divine with Ebers conservative opinions, and his 
prospects in the world, could have been persuaded to 
place hiniKclf by the side of an unlettered and star\'ing 

The Panper Paraclete seems to have been a man of 
extraordinaiy nervous power. I liavo met with a 
dozen persons in this city — bankers and mercliants — 
who hold, in spite of his failures, that Schonhcrr, 
though not the Paraclete made flesh, was a divinely- 
gifted man. It should be said, in explanation of Ebel's 
attachment to him, that some of Schr>nheiT'» wildest 

92 SPiniTlWL WIVES. 

tloiiigAy like tlie cnit't whidi he caiiHcd to be built on 
the Pregel, were thingB of bin hitcr years ; done after 
KbcU Diestel, Kanitz, and his saner friends bad letl 
him in despair. Yet, even when all is said, the case 
remains a moral puzzle ; bince the fact remains, that a 
XQvy keen student of science and divinity was brought 
to believe in these ravings as in a second gospel, and 
a man of aristocratic leanings, with fair prospects in 
tbo Church, was persuaded to sit at a dreamer's feet 
and a beggar's board. 

From the day of his conversion to the theory of 
light and water, and to the dogma of a Paraclete made 
. flesh, Ebel attached himself to his master, standing by 
liim on the quays, sitting under him in the pot-house, 
]»reaching his doctrine, fighting his battles, trudging 
with Ikini on his journeys, putting himself under 
Scbunherr, and striving to become to him all that 
Timothy had been to Paul. When Ebel was in his 
twenty-fifth 3*ear he made a public declaration of his 
belief in the system of nature — in the dual principle — 
taught by the Pauper Paraclete: a proceeding which 
gave high ollence to his superiors in the Church. 
These gentlemen found means to annoy him in many 
ways. They questioned his views; they condemned 
hii» zeal; they challenged his orthodoxy. But as ho 
walked among them with a wary step, they found no 
way to deprive him of his clerical oflice. When their 
malice failed on that side, they commenced a sharp 
iiiqairy into the tenets held by Sclionherr, lioping to 
fiud something in them which Ebel could not justity, 
aiid would not like to disown. This inquiry failed; 
for it was shown, in defence of Sclionherr, that the 
cosmogonical views of the Pauper Prophet were such 
UM lent Bup[K>rt to Bible truth against the spurious 
flcieuce which w*a8 then being taught from the profes- 

A nan I) K A rox En el. a-i 

Bor's cimir. Not only war Sehonticrr frccil from 
blame, but the attention of theologians was drawn to 
him more and more. From that time Ebel assumed 
in his discoursoB a bolder tone. 

In the year 181G» when the great war was closed, 
and the German cities were opening to a fresher and 
freer life, the Pauper raniclete and his chief disciple 
started on what they hoped would be a long and 
Mc88od journey. Schonherr was to be the prophet, 
Kbol the witness, of a new dispensation. They Uwk 
little care for their daily needs; they meant to beg 
their bread, like the old German ascetics; and they 
carried from Konigsberg little bej'ond their wallets 
and staves. A converted varnish-maker, named 
Clemens, was their sole companion. These wander* 
ing preachers found their way through heat and dust, 
through frost and rain, to Berlin, to Dresden, to Ures- 
hiu, hoping in every place to find princes and people 
ecjually eager for the new light, thirsting for the new 
water, which alone could give them peace. In these 
pnnid cities they met with no success; the pco]de 
l)oing drunk with joy at their great revenge ; and in 
no 8(U'h n)0od as might induce them to consider the 
principles of things. The apostles turned from these 
cities into the country hamlets ; to the lonely castle, 
to the secluded farm; and in one of these hamlets, in 
a baronial Schloss, they met with a young and beauti* 
ful woman, who was to influence both their lives, and 
especially EbePs life. 

Though the two w*andering apostles found this 
young lady living in a Silesian castle, she was one of 
their own country-women, a Prussian of Konigsberg. 
Ilor name was Ida; her rank tliat of Countess vou 
dcr Grciben. 

In those days the highest person in Ost Preusaeu 

society was voii Aucwwald, Obcr-Pras'ulcnt of tlie 
proviiico. Thougli not very rich, he was of noble 
family, and stood Iiigh in favor; the IVinccss of 
Prussia being his warm admirer and constant friend. 
This great lady had raised him to [tower in Kiinigs- 
berg; first as Oberbiirg-meister in the city, then as 
Ober-Prasident in the province. Being the first per- 
sonage in Konigsberg, Auerswald lived in the royal 
SchloHs, surn>unded by the state of a petty prince, and 
blessed in the love of a family circle, noted for the 
talent of its young men and the beauty of its young 
women. His sons, Uudolph and Alfred, have lived 
to become famous in the history of Prussia ; liudolph 
as minister of the Kevolution in 1848, and Alfred as a 
leading politician, who has not taken otKce. His 
eldest daughter, Fraulein von Auerswald, married 
Thecnlor von Schon, a young man of brilliant promise, 
who was to be his own successor in the high post of 
Ober-Priisident. A second daughter, Krnestine, mar- 
rie<l Ilerr von Bardeleben, a man of rank and wealth. 
Ida, his third daughter, a peerless beauty, of nervous 
temperament and delicate frame, exceedingly sensitive 
to sounds and scents, to changes in the weather, and 
to moral a[ipeals, had been followed by all the young 
nobles of Ost Preussen, until the lovely girl had given 
her love away to the young and handsome Graf von 
der Groben, a man of large estates and of very high 
blood, with whom she lived in the perfect bliss of 
wedded life, until the great uprising of her country 
against the French took place. That patriotic rising 
Lad wrecked her peace. Konigsberg boasts, and truly, 
that she sent the first volunteers into the field against 
ll'apolcon. Ida, living in the centre of these great 
passions, was glad to send her husbana, like all her 
kinsmen, int4> the service of her native land. On the 

Ah' ;a. .. -. 

nohl of Liitzcn, in the fiMt preat battle of the war, ho 

fell, leaving his beautiful wife with a great fortune, a 

:8niall family, and a broken heart. 

* To this fair widow no one had been able to wbinper 

^ iirace. Three yoar« had pa8.«*ed since she had sent her 

. Iioro forth to die, and in all that time she had not been 

5 luTi*elf for a single day. Nothing remained of her 

i I'Xiopt the beauty of her face. Ilor father had done 

' his bcHt. The family of her dead husband had tried 

■■ ilirirHkill. She had listenetl to their wonls with a 

' dull oar, and obeyed their counsels with a weary foot 

In vain aIic had gone back to the Schloss; in vain hIic 

had ptriven to appear in society; in vain she had 

hattled with her nen'es and struggled to repress her 

tcaiH. From all these trials she had turned back to 

lior dark home in Silesia: to the place which had 

be<t»me sacred to her heart from the remembrance of 

hor married joy and her fatal loss. There she could 

resign herself to grief; for there she stood alone by 

the dead. Her father had given up the fond hope of 

ovor again seeing his darling child in her old light 

moods; when he suddenly heard from Silesia that a 

religious man had come to her country-house, who 

si'cnicd to have power upon her spirit; which power 

lie was using with great success to rouse her energies, 

aihl restore her to health and life. This news inspired 

the Oher-Priisidcnt and his family with joy. 

After a few months had passed, the Countess Ida 
returned to Konigsberg, with Ebcl and Sehonherr in 
her tniin. The cure effected in her case was perfect. 
Instead of the melancholy and fantastic countess, over 
whom her family had mourned since the terrible day 
of Liitzen, she appeared among them now in her old 
habit; tender, soft, serene, and almost gay. The 
poetic seltit}hncs8 of grief had passed away. All that 



8hc had been to her father in old times, elie became 
again ; with a grave gentleness that flung about her a 
charm which every one could feel and no one couI<] 
describe. £bel seemed to have enchanted her; and all 
the family admitted that this work of his hands wa4 
very good. 

On the arrival of this great lady and her two male 
companions in Konigsberg, the old man went his way; 
going back to his artisans and his lecture-rooms, and 
setting up his trade of ark-builder on the principle of 
navigation by fuith. The young man held on to h\n 
noble convert, seeing her daily at the royal Schloss, 
where he soon became a friend and favorite in the 
best society of Konigsberg. Graf von Kanitz repre- 
sents £bel OS having made the acquaintiuice of von 
Auerswald at an earlier time ; thit< is not the general 
belief; anyway, it is certain that Auerswald never 
tired of doing service to the man who had given him 
a daughter whom he had mourned as lost All the 
tribe of the von der Grobens, a liost in Ost Preussen, 
held themselves to be his debtors. Ida was the dar- 
ling of all her kinsfolk, and she had only to smile in 
liis favor to make his fortune. The Gnif von Kanitz, 
the Graf von Finkenstein, the Graf von Mlinchow, 
took )iim by the hand. Fine ladies flocked to hear 
the preacher who had done such deeds ; and, in one 
word, thanks to his fair friend, Willielm Ebel found 
himself the fashiou and his kingdom made. 

In the Church, his rise was now swift and high. 
Auerswald, as Ober-Prosident, wtis chairnnui of the 
Consistorium, the clerical body which had charge of 
every young curate's fortunes. A minister in Berlin 
(the minister for ecclesiastical and medical affairs) has 
the nominal apjK>intment of candidates in .every part 
ot the kingdom ; but the real appointment lies with 



those who nominate and recommend, who in most 
cases must be men on the spot. Auerswald had no 
need to press the claims of his favorite. The very 
men wlio liad found such fault with his Rennons when 
lio was chiefly known to tliem as a disciple of the Pau- 
i jtcr Paraclete, awoke to a sudden sense of liis merit, 
when they saw that the Ober-Priisident's daughter 
\ came down to the Altstadt church whenever it was 
\ KhoPs turn to preach. In a short time, by the lielp 
! of warm wonls at court, tlie poor deacon's assistant 
1 booame deacon and arclideacon in the fasliionablc 
: cliurch. 

] Kl)ers merits were now confessed on every side. 

: IVople miglit liatehim; and many persons did hate 
j him ; not only for his own sake, but for that of the 
j work in which he seemed to be engaged. Schunherr 
J liad contined liis labors, by a sort of preference which 
I liis training helps one to understand, to mechanics 
an<I small traders; Ebel, who was by calling and edu- 
cation a gentleman, turned by preference towanls the 
higher classes. In Sclionherr's hands the new religious 
movement might Iiave been radical and popular; in 
Kbers hands it was sure to l>ecome, what his enemies 
called it from the firsts a feudal and reactionary move- 

Ah soon as Wilhelm Ebel had become chief of the 
Altstadt Church, all his great friends from the Scliloss, 
from the barracks, from the public oflices— -all the 
blue l)lood of Ost Preussen — fathered around his 
pulpit; making of liis congregation an assembly of 
counts and barons, of countesses and councillors' 
wives. The Ober-Pnisident was sometimes there; 
the beautiful Ida was always there. Graf von Kanitz, 
(iraf and Grafin von Finkenstcin, Graf von Miinchow, 

Baron Ernst von Ileyking, Fraulein Minna vou Dcr- 


flehaUy Fraalein Emilie von Schrotter, Fraulein Flo- 
relic von Larisch, all the hip^hcst and best-born per- 
eonag^es, who danced at the Schloss and cc^ive the tone 
to society, were sure to be present. That Altstadt 
Church was not a large building; everybody could 
not find a scat in its galleries and on its floor; but 
every man who meant to rise — every woman who 
wished to be thought well of in the world — desired 
to be a member of tlie bod}', since to sit under the 
fashionable archdeacon was coming to be taken as a 
social distinction. Politics had much to do with this 
movement of the higher ranks. Ebel was by nature 
a conser^'ative. In his friendly intercourse with Schon- 
hcrr he strove. to bring his master round to this view 
of things ; to soften and elevate the elder mystic ; but 
the Pauper Paraclete would not listen to his worldly 
and aspiring pupil ; preferring the Coal Market to the 
Schloss, and the company of carters and peasants to 
that of courtiers and tine ladies. At length the pupil 
and his teacher had to part. It is said that the Count- 
ess Ida urged her friend to give up Schonherr, who 
was a low fellow, rude in speech, dirty in person, 
crazed in mind. On the eve of parting, Schonherr 
expressed some scorn of his old pupil : and, after he 
had once parted from him, never would consent to 
receive from him another visit, even when he stood 
in the greatest need. Ebel, it must be added, was a 
kind friend to liis old master, in spite of these rebufls, 
and sent him, in feigned names, numy a trifling pres- 
ent, which was a comfort to the poor fanatic in his 
later days. 

The strangeness of the doctrines taught in the Alt- 
stadt Church was also a great attraction ; since these 
doctrines touched the deepest feelings of every man 
and womau who had either a soul to lose, or a heart 


trt give away. It was uiKlcmtood anioiijr tlicra, that 
the real fnUowcra of tlio new gottpel would be content 
not to ninrr>- ; and if they were already married by tlio 
law, tliat tliey would prefer to live as though they were 
not. ])i'i«ire wna neeoiintcd n cigii of the dovira enipiro 
ill the heart; and to east him out waa conaidcrcU as 
the noblest act of a Christian man. In tho new life 
of the spirit, no love was nanctified except Bpiritaal 
love, (imrs purposes in bidding our parents increase 
and replenish the earth had been fulfilled ; so that, in 
the tnio Church oi tho Saints, there would be no 
more births and no more deaths. 



WIIKX Ebol parted from Selionlicrr, tlio few per- 
sons of high rank who had heen hearers of tho 
J'auper Paraclete (juitted his conventicle by tliu Pre- 
gel to follow tho rising favorite of the Schlosa, who 
h:id the taet to otter them a church, which should yet 
he a living power, aHcr a pattern of llieir own. Gruf 
von Kanitz and Fruulcin Minna von Dcrsehau, tbo 
most eminent of these persons, wore the timt to move 
avvuy: Kanilz giving up his rank as angel; Minna bac- 
rifieing her prospects as reputed brido of tho Lamb. 
DicMtel, tho Boal-breakcr, followed in a littlo whilo ; a 
miufortune, perhaps, for Ebel, since this young clergy- 
man wan rude and disobedient, fiery, lieadstrong, and 
indiscreet. Diestel was a constant trouble to the new 
eliureh, until Fruulcin von Dcrsehau, by a letter of 


Htcm rcmonBtrance witti him, brought him to his 
knees and a better mind. Tiie young lady had un- 
dertook this office of rebuke, not only because she 
held it unlit for a man so good as the Archdeacon to 
be ruffled in soul by the offences of his inferiors, but 
also, and chiefly, because among the Kbeiians it bo- 
came a part of the woman's function to confess sin- 
ners, to inflict penance, and to grant absolution. 

In EbePs system women were to be nearly all in all. 
The chief laid himself out to act upon them, and 
through them upon the workl. They stood nearest to 
him in rank; they shared his most secret thoughts; 
they were his friends, his counsellors, his agents. In 
a word, the Ebelians were a Female Church. 

"I knew the Arelideacon in his younger time," said 
a lady of my acquaintance, on whom I called this 
morning; "he was a good young man; very hand- 
some and winning; all the girls were in love with 
him." In those times Ebel wore his hair very long; 
it was dark curling hair, and it fell in ripples of shin- 
ing coils around his neck. What was then thought 
very strange in a male, he parted his hair down the 
centre of his head, like a young ladyj and for this 
cause, among other reasons, ho was said, when a 
youth, to resemble the portraits of St John. 

A niece of President tells me that in early life 

he was the teacher of religion in Ulricirs school (in 
the Reibnitzer Strasse) to which she went as a girl ; 
that he was adored by the young ladies ; that no one 
could help loving him. The old lady says, that look- 
ing back upon those times now, she can hardly ven- 
ture to say how much power he exercised over all the 
young women. " He enchanted the girls,*' she tells 
me; but she is sure that he engaged their affection 
only as an angel might have done, by his beauty of 

A rr.}fAt.K vurRni loi 

iiorsoii, I>j- Ills BoftiicHB of vttioe, l>j- liU i>wrUy of bouI. 
All the cliildn'ii, mIic Miyit, iiHvd to run after liiiu in 
tli<; titrocttt. In tlio schools, all the prU used to kixft 
hini; ill the clinpcU, ull tho women used to enibraco 
liiin. \\\* toiios were verj* soft, his words were very 
wiiriii. Kvcry itbnisc that fell from his lips wn« 
triMwurt'd 141 liy Boiiic delighted lieiiror. Tho words 
wliii'h he Rpokc niip^ht bo common enough, but his 
nir, hiH gesture, hiit inflection of voice, gave a meaii- 
iiii' til them BUch lis no phniscs from less gifted lips 
would Hoem to linve. Once tho young teacher said to 
Kriiiilcin A : 

"Why, my child, do you repeat my words?" 

She could not tell him. 

"I knew very well," alio eaid to mft; "yea, ond ho 
knew it also ; but I feared to any, lest be should turn 
hid fac-c and his heart away from me." 

"Why did you repeat them?" I ventured to ask 
the Inily. 

'■ Vocnusc I thouglit they wore hteascd to mo ; bc- 
lauHc I thought tlicy were like the words of our 

■'Is tliat, mndani, your opinion atill?" 

"It \*. Archdeacon £bel, in his later days, was a 
iiinii of mimy sorrows ; ono who wna eorcly tried ; ho 
\vA* iiuw gone to his rest ; and, as I hope myself for 
iiii^ny, I believe he was a bravo and a pious man, who, 
in everything he did on earth, betioved that bo wa« 
tloiiig tho will of God." 

This tender regret for the Archdeacon I have beard 
in many houses from matrons of blameless life, who 
were not members of his church, and who only remem- 
Ut Iiim aa a sweet, benevolent person, with a smile 
nil his face, and compassion in his heart for evcty one. 

Throe noble Indies cntcreil into an engagement with 


each other to lioKl watch over him; to be near Inm at 
fill times ; to guard him from evil ; aiul to keep temp- 
tation from his path. These three ladies were the 
Countess von der Qrohen, th(J Fraulcin von Derschau, 
and the Friiulein von Selirotter. They were his 
ministers and messengers, who were to stand by him, 
to serve him, and to do his bidding. Ebel used to 
say, that since his second birth of the spirit, tlie ten- 
dency towards his old life in the flesh, which he found 
most fatal to his peace, most diflicult to put away, was 
his natural disposition to be very humble, to think 
little of liimself, and to bow his head in sliamo before 
the commonest beggar in the street His female 
guards, taking note of this weakness in their master, 
propped him up, so to say, with pride and love. If he 
were weak*, they would make liini strong. 

An outer circle of high-born and beautiful women, 
who had also the duty of comforting and supporting 
the handsome Arclideacon, consisted of the Countess 
von Finkonstein (Graf von Finkenstein*s sister), 
Ernestine von Bardeleben, elder sister of Countess 
Ida, Fraulein Maria Consentius, Fraulein von Larisch, 
and many more. But the destiny of the Church was 
not in their hands. The real power of the Ebelians 
rested with Countess Ida, Fraulein von Dersclmu, and 
Friiulein von Schrotter. 

Tliese ladies introduced into the circles not only a 
feminine spirit, and feminine waj's of looking at 
things, but ladylike habits of life. The church was 
made pleasant and pretty^ and the service had a some- 
thing about it sweet and even gay. All the inter- 
course of brother and sister was conducted with senti- 
ment and eflfusion of soul. Bad habits, and most of 
all masculine bad habits, were put to the ban. For 
iufltancei the men were forbidden to take snuff, to 

{ A FEMALE rilVnm. MXi 

8moko pipo8, to tirink much wiiic, and to ring profane 

\ Honps. Wnic-RtuWn and beor-ci»IIar« wore reganied 

i as i»lace8 unfit for young men to virit. The sport and 

^' riot of student lite were frowned down. 

■ Most of the young men submitted their ways to the 

guidance of these female ministers; though the clergy 

! stood out wannly for their own amall viecs. Luther 

' is said to have loved his pipe^ his glass, and his staive ; 

* indeed, the most riotous of bursehen ditties, laughing 

; at the man who loves not woman, wine, and a song, 

I as a dull fellow who will live a fool his whole life long, 

\ is popularly ascribed to him and called by his name. 

\ Now liUther's name is a tower of strength in Prussia; 

nowhere stronger than in Konigsberg, and in the 

j Altstadt church, under the altar of which the dust of 

I his first-born son was laid. Diestel appealed from the 

three ladies to Luther; but the three ladies would not 

Ik)w to Luther in the matter of pipe, and stave, and 

glass. The Rev. gentleman did not want to smoke; 

he disliked the perfume of tobacco, and had never lit 

a pipe in his life; but he was fund of snuff, which was 

then the fashionable vice. He dabbed it about his 

coat; he dusted it over his frills and cuffs; the stains 

of it lay upon his lips; the smell of it was upon his 

breath. 8nufl* made him an unpleasamt object to see, 

still more to salute with a holy kiss. 

Fraulein von Derschau, the young lady who had 
i'harge of him, bade him explain and amend his con- 
duct, which he did with a bluff kind of humor. Dies- 
tel said he took a pinch as an act of penance. h\ Iiis 
normal state, lie was apt to grow proud of himself und 
of his office in the church ; to fancy himself better 
than the rest of mankind, and to indulge in dreams of 
his high calling in the Apocalypse, A pinch of snuff 
nuidc him mortal. When he pressed the liox, a scnso 


104 sprniTrAL wives, 

of lim natural weakiicus cnmc upon him; when he 
BHcczcd, his soul felt bowed and humbled to the dust 
Fraulein von Derschau scolded him for his filthy 
ways ; he promised to reform ; and as he went home 
down tlie Lang Gasse bought a fresh supi>ly of his 
darling herb. Diestel, being a low fellow, was less 
di8jK)sed to follow good counsel than the young men 
of higher rank. 

The Female Church aspired to be known, not only 
as the most fashionable and feudal church in Prussia, 
but as the one in which devotion to the king was 
taught as a sacred duty, hardly less binding on Chris- 
tian men, than unquestioning obedience to the will of 
God. The Female Church was beyond all things a 
loyal church. 

Under the Archdeacon, these three noble ladies 
formed an inner and a higher circle of the body; 
though Kanitz, who had now been recognized by 
Kbel as the First of the Two Witnesses of God, was 
usually admitted to their meetings. If Sachs's evi- 
dence may be taken on the point, these four persons 
were the only people in Konigsberg ever raised by 
Kbel to the Jiighest order in his sect Three of these 
four persons, the three ladies, Kbel purified and sancti- 
fied unto the Lord by a mystic rite ; after which it was 
understood that these ladies had power given to them 
to purify and sanctify others, both women and men. 
Divine grace was to flow downwards ; first upon Ebel ; 
then upon Countess Ida, Fraulein von Derschau, and 
Fraulein von Schrotter ; next upon Diestel, Kanitz, 
Finkenstein ; and afterwards upon all the circles to the 
uttermost bound. The three ladies claimed to bo of 
liigher rank in the system tiiun any male ; even than 
tlie clergy, with the one exception of the Archdeacon 
himself. Tliey were supposed to liavo a real charge 

I A FEMM.K rnnirii. los 

I of BOul« Oil oflrtli ; nml a rcgul jilncc in llio kingiloin 
I tlmt I'Imll W, world nitlioiit onii. On earth, tWy 
1 xavvc the netivc miiiiatcra of faith aiul love ; tho dtviiio 
] pnx^ionfl tlirough whicli the fallen could ulonc bo 
clouiiBcd from fin and rentorcd to God. 

In this high service of tlic church they were eager 
to ppond and to he spent. In it they took ujHm 
tlienmclvcs dnties from which women of tho world 
would ccrlAiiity have fhrituk. They became inqui* 
nitnntof private life. Tlicy acted as confessors to re- 
I iHMitunt criniinals. They coiideseeiidcd to tho arta of 

J ^|.i0H. 

] Tlicy ko|)t a quick feminine cyo on every one Ukcly 
to git wrong; montof all on such as stood within tho 
higher circles. Kanitz was too pure in life to need 
iniifli c'oiinsel ; hut the Graf vou Finkonstoin gave 
llicni tmuhlc; and the Hcv. Ileinrich Diestcl.apassion- 
nte ami wayward fellow, called down from their judjf- 
nionl-Bcnt mnny a stem rebuke. It was (he accepted 
jimctice, if not the written law, that among tho £hc- 
liiuis ineii were to come under bonds, and women 
wore to reign and nilc. 

To teach, to scold, to coax, was tho women's part in 
llic Fcniulc Church. They were snpponcd to undor- 
Ktand the masculine nature perfectly ; and every muii 
in ihcjtc circles who wnntcd guidance, comfort, and 
inittniution, had to wait upon them. The ladies are 
s;iid to have been very hard and searching as to secret 
siiiK, and to have wrung confcssionB from tho most 
unwilling penitents. They are said to hare Imicii 
vxtrcmuly keen in tracing out any suggestions of dis- 
li-yal love. Profossor Sachs declares, that in these 
iiuinisitions they sometimes went beyond tho bounds 
of fact; uning theirnimblo fancies to suggest ofl'encea ; 
puch UH might have been committed in thought, if not 

1)0 anniTUAL wiVKs. 

in act. The men, it has been said, found out, tliat the 
more they confessed the more they would be petted 
and pniised. 

The Arclidoacon and these ladien contrived to make 
their circle a very pleasant one. Kbcl disliked a row. 
All suavity himself, he nuide every one gentle and 
content amund him. If there were quarrels, he kept 
well out of them ; which was easy enough for him, 
since all his disciples, both male and female, thought 
it their duty to spare him pain. '* Kiss and be friends,*' 
was his rule of life; hence kissing and hngging are 
said to have been always going on in his church. 

The whole body of the Ebelians was supposed to 
enjoy a life in the Lord apart from that of the world ; 
one which implied many privileges and graces only to 
be won by the Saints. They were all brothers and 
sisters; a sacred family, living in angelic purity and 
angelic freedom. 

One of tlieir soft rewards for leading a life of grace 
and purity was the privilege of tendering to each other 
a Seraphic Kiss ; each brother liaving the right to give 
his sister a chaste salute ; a custom which they had 
derived from their old German foregoers, the Brethren 
and Sisters of the Free Spirit 




WIIKX the Teutonic Kiiig1it8 cnmo into tlio oM 
IVuflsia, to convert the Paj^an worahippem of 
IVrcunaH by the Bhort-aword exercise, they were fol- 
IoucmI from Germany by u crowd of men and women, 
calling tlicmselves followers of the Free Spirit, and 
making loud protents again8t the abominations of 

Thoy Hcemcd to be a secret society, holding a mystic 
di>ctrino, obeying rules which they did not care to 
own. A scaled book, called the Nine Spiritual liocksy 
written partly in Old German, partly in Latin, con- 
tained their singular creed. So far an we can nniko 
them out, by study of their fragments of doctrine, 
they would ajipear to have had much in common with 
the Pauper Paraclete. They assumed that all men 
are brethren and equals in the Lord ; that man may 
become free in spirit from the bonds of law; that lio 
can riite by the divine help into a region of grace ; and 
that for one who has attiiined to this higher liberty of 
the spirit, it is impossible to commit sin. They seem 
to have held that all things come from God, and will 
revert to God. They taught that the creation of nuiu- 
kind and of the earth was not a single act — commenced 
one day, concluded another, but a continuous proceed- 
ing of the divine will; nature in action, law in pro- 
gre8s : so that the present and the past are one, and 
all that now is, will be, and must be in the future. 
To them the universe was but a phase of deity, which 


lind become visible to His children through tlie Father'g 
love. Man, acconrni^ to them, was the actual Son of 
(i04l, bom of Ilim, and to Him, since the first of days ; a 
tiling of like essence with Himself; pure, incorruptihle, 
indestriictihic, world without end. The mortal child, 
though parted from itsheavenly parent by a wall of flesh, 
had, not the less, a faculty of turning inward towards 
the original source of things; having, in the conscious* 
noss, A means of uniting itself with that from wliich it 
had originally come. A man who had thus returned in 
spirit to the Father, so as to have lost liimself in the 
Supremest Essence, had, in their belief, arrived at a 
perfect state of freedom ; so that in his new condition 
of existence, his passions were no longer snares, but 
sanctified and lieavcnly powers. 

These German mystics seem to have held that as 
God can do no wrong, so, His children, wlien absorbed 
into His will, can do no wrong. Sin, therefore, was 
in their eyes a thing of the past times, born of the 
earth, a portion only of men who might still be strug- 
gling with the law. For themselves they had no con- 
cern with sin ; the Spirit had made them free. 

Like the Pauper Paraclete, these brethren appealed 
to the common people. They dared to defy Cardinals 
and Popes; they laughed at canons and decrees ; they 
spat upon hulls and briefs ; they refused to join in 
prayer, to attend the sacrifice of mass, to confess their 
sins and seek absolution from a priest ; they repu- 
diated all forms of external worship. The wKolo 
auiversc was their temple, and they taught the mul- 
titude that God was nearer to them in a forest glade 
than under a golden dome. Dressed in a poor garb, 
they wandered from town to town, begging their 
bread, preaching to the poor, holding meetings in the 
nighty and railing against the pride and i>omp of the 


< f 



08tal>li8hc(l faith. Each brother was attended by a 


Tlu'HO Brethren mid Sisters of the Free Spirit liad 
n great HucceHs. For nigh two hundred years, Poi>es, 
C'ardinals, Kleetorn, nnide war upon them. Agents of 
the Holy Oflii!e seized them. Many were committed 
to the i»urging flames; yet the protest whicli they 
made against a carnal and licentious cliureh was car- 
rie<l by them into everj' corner of Germany, and into 
every province won by the Teutonic knights. The 
more they were pei*sccutcd, the more they spi^eiul. The 
very convents of Germany could not bo protected 
from their presence. In Swabisi, many of the monks 
and nuns K'ft their religious houses for the world ; 
I alter having been taught by these l^retbren that it was 
] bolter to live without rule, since the true way of wor- 
ship was to wait on God in the freedom of the Spirit. 
What nniy be called the domestic life of these old 
German monks and nuns is of yet higher interest than 
tlitir theological views, from its close reseniblancc to 
facts which have begun to show themselves in thp re- 
ligious societies of our own generation. These Breth- 
ren and Sisters of the Free Sj)irit invented the seraphic 
kiss; the kiss of love, of innocence and peace. They 
did not marry. They professed to live, one with 
another, nnile and female, friar and sister, not under 
law, but under grace, l^orn anew, absorbed into the 
Di'ity, what to them was wedlock. Only an exploded 
rile, a thing of the flesh, a sign of the unregeneratc 
heart. As men and women who had passed into the 
seraphic state, all tilings were lawful to them and all 
things were common to them. What could the Pope 
and his lawyers do ? They had entered on a new being. 
A seraphic kiss conveys no taint. Their yearning to- 
wards each other brought no shame. lu the overflow- 



iiig fulnc^A of their joj% the Bting of human passions 
^V>un(l no [ilacc ; for they lived on enrth as the angels 
Jive in heaven, — in love and innocence all their days. 
It is curious to sec how the Church in Germany 
^lealt with these seraphic monks and nuns. The 
-^rchbinhops of Cologne and Maintz denounced them 
IVom the altar, sent out friars to preach against them, 
<^nd called great synods to condemn them. As the 
iJrothren waged a war to the death against Popes and 
Jireiatcs, minsters and cathedrals, rubrics and canons, 
«%11 weapons which could be turned against them may 
laavc seemed to these dignitaries fair. The most 
^^iFective, perhai>s, of these weapons was one which \ 
^w\ Italian prelate never would have dreamed of using, 
'-^ — the marriage vow. Knowing how strongly ran the 
X popular tide in Germany against enforced celibacy, 
"1.110 Council of Cologne, though it was conjposed of 
^nen who had themselves taken vows of chastity, de- 
flounced the Brethren and Sisters of the Free Spirit 
«ts enemies of matrimony ! These doctors quoted from 
ilidy Writ the passages in which the woman is given 
^o the man, and the twain are blessed in their union, 
^^nd commanded to go forth into the earth and replen- 
ish it with life. This line of argument had a good 
^tlect« An old German burgher loved before all 
things, after God and His Son, his house, his wife, his 
^air-haired lads and lasses ; and neither priest nor 
^riar could persuade him that a bright hearth, nnide 
liDly by the presence of a good woman and her happy 
^*hildren, was not the sight of all sights on earth the 
^nost acceptable to God. Thus, when lie was told 
that these followers of the Free Spirit were the ene- 
mies of marriage, lio began to doubt those very vir- 
tues which had made them look so good in his eyes* 
It was not that he objected to a Brother being accom- 

WE FliEE SViniT. 1)1 

|i;iiiio<l Iiy n SUtcr. Kv«py Atium hail n ri^Iit to li'm 
Kvo, If the ]!rothi'P hiid Iwhily miirnctl hU SUtor 
in the iioaroi't vhiirch, the Genimu burgher would 
lijivc tlioiiirht tho tmiicactioii pcrtcft. But lio coiihl 
iint<-i>iii)>r«-licii<l that (lotnriiittot'liviiijr uborcthc law; 
iiiid lio <li<l not like to hear tliat there was n better way 
ihiiii that in wlndi he liveil with hia own wedded Fran, 
lie hiul u Hly nnK{)icioii that ecrajihic kixwa nii^bt lead 
the unwary into Bomcthiiif; worae. Unions of tlio 
tu>id in It RtDic of jrracc were thin^rs which lio shonld 
not dmre for hi:* own Lotte niiil (jrctclien; and that 
whi<-li lie should not like lor liix own diiughters ho 
vo\\\i\ not oanction in the wandering nuiiR. 

Throiigli feeliiigB Biich as tlieao of tho old German 
1iiirglien>, the great doctors of tlic Chiiruli mndo war 
iigiiiiiNt tlie Itrctlircn, — not seeing, perhaps not caring 
til nee, that tlic line of attack lay through their own 
iiiln.'iiclKHl cninpn. Anyhow, they sent their procla- 
iiiiilion forth to do its work. Pcrhajts it liclped to 
woakeu tho Itrctlircn ; it certainly helped to destroy 
the Cliiirdi. 

The nioBt singular tiling in the story of these senv- 
pliie monk-M and nuns is the fact, that their pretended 
purity of life appears to have been proved. The In- 
ijiiisitors, into whose hands tho Arelihishops of Muintz 
and Cologne surrendered their victims, souglit for tlio 
■ very worwt tnith ngiiinst them, by tho very worst 
means. Turn on tlic rack, screwed in tlio thumb, 
bruketi in the joints, scorched in the tire, the crushed 
iiml bleeding Brethren confos^cd tlioir sins and crimes, 
— the evil t]iey had spoken of tho Pope, the sconi they 
had expressed for public worship, the denunciations 
tliey hiul hurled against the law; hut they hud no 
confession to make of sins ngaiiist purity of life. Tho 
fact of their having kept eompany — males and females, 


V>rcthrcn an«l sistcrfl — wjis not dispntctl, cither on the 
^^'hecl or at tlte stake. Men and women had lived 
t:oflfcthcr in tlie Lord. They were free in niannei's, 
«^nd a particular brother might he attached to a par- 
ti icular Birtter. They had lodged in the same barn, 
^lept under the Banie tree. They had been in each 
C3ther*8 society day and night; yet the most searching 
<|ue8t into their ways of lite by the spiritual police, 
Avho followed them with a deadly zeal and hute, could 
\>ring to light no circumstance implying moral blame. 
"^Vith what appears to have been deep regret and 
X\'onder, the Inquisitors report, that tliough these here- 
X.W9 had cast tliemselves away from God, had given 
tLhemselves up to evil imaginings, and were utterly lost 
t:o the sense of shame, they had contrived to preserve 
^heir bodies chaste. 

The facts were certainly perverse ; but servants of 
^hc Holy Office had a reacly means of explaining such 
J>erversc phenomena by the power of devils. The use 
^f demons had long been known to the church police. 
"^Vheu a saint of high repute had been caught in some 
intrigue, and it was feared that liis detection might 
«loud the Church with odium, some imp of darkness 
liad been brought upon the scene, to bear the stripes 
4ind carry oft* the shame. Imps, you see, have power 
to assume a human shape. Imits, from their malig- 
nant nature, must feel a keen delight in blasting the 
reputation of holy men. Thus, you are brought to 
8ce that when some holy priest appears to have been 
caught in his penitent's house, and to have suffered 
stripes and blows from her irate husband, it is safe to 
conclude that the devil has been at his tricks, and that 
the offender is not really the man hu seems. No ; that 
fellow who got his bones broken, his flesh thumped 
black and blue, waa not a holy prior, but one of Satan's 


': THE /v.'A"^ srntiT. m 

I iiii)w wlio Ii:ul p«t oil tli:it \tMw gjirl) ! So it Imj*- 
j t'l'iK'il. wlioii till' IintiiiMitorrt foiiiiil tlii>y could prxivo 
I iKi ]u<r»<iriiil iniiiiorulitiiM »<;niiii4t ttictto Itn.-llircn uiiil 
i ^;i!'l.•rs of tiic Free Siiirlt, — who socnicd to Iiiivc 
j jutiialty eiitcroil, an tin*)' ni»1, into u 8cra|>ltic iiition, 
} IVoc from [la^Hiou niiJ ilcsirc, — tluil tlioy were ablu to 

iL-xi'luiii tliii* imritj- of life as bciiiy tlio very wont eijjii 
nf all. Xiodor, a Doiuiiiicaik writer, liad told tlto world 
that Satan \im tbo ^\ii of rendering tlioae whom ho 
, wi>idd favor blind to bcniity uiid cold to love. Tho 
I w»rld believed him. All through the Dark Ages, 
■, wticii lianlly anything of a tii>iritual kind was either 
\ bi'liui-ed or underxtood, this frigid |>ower of Satan was 
t an article in ever)' creed. Tho devil woa cold of blood, 
i uml an icy heart was one of tho gifls which lie could 
nijikc to hiii choRcn sons. He bad made this gift of 
4t)ldiiesfi, Miid tlie Inquisitors, to these atigelic niotika 
and nuns, who lived to each other, above tho law, in 
j<nnty and pcaeo; so that tho innoccney of their lives 
lii'caine one of the vilest occusatious urged agaiust 
tlicm at the stake. 

Ilnndreds of them perished in tho flaraos, for no 
liigbor crime than that of having offered to each other 
a serophie kiss. 

10* il 




PARTLY 111 the old way trodden by these Brethren 
and Sinters of the Free Spirit, partly in the way 
walked hy the Panper Paraclete and liis followers, 
partly in a way of his own, adapted, as he said, to the 
feet uf counts and countesses, the Very Reverend Arch- 
deacon Ebel founded, in the Altstadt, a new Christian 
society — a church within the cliurch, a state within 
the state. 

He took upon himself the burden of no name. 
Outside people called his party the Ebelians ; but the 
word, if fluttering to his pride, was full of peril to his 
peace, and he forbore to use it. He professed to be 
Lutheran and orthodox ; but while calling himself 
Lutheran and orthodox, lie taught from his pulpit^ and 
in his chamber, that the old law was about to pass 
away, that the end of all things was at hand, that 
Christ was about to appear among His saints. In the 
face of such a coming, what was the world, with its 
petty names and nice distinctions, to them? What 
were the highest things of a day — powers, dignities, 
possessions — but mire of the pool, dust of the road, 
earth of the earth, things to be shaken from men*s 
feet? What could it profit a man if he had gained 
the whole world and lost his soul? 

Uow was a sinner to meet his Judge 7 How was 
tho penitent to prepare for God? How, except by 


imtliiig liinipelf in tlie hmnln of Otid ? Ami how coiiW 
lie {ilaco liiinetilf in llic \vm\\U of GimI except by siib- 
iiiittin<; his will to llic couimcls of IIIm CliiiMi? By 
X\m cliuiii of argument the A rehdoacon led lii« people 
into ft pure theocmcy — a govcnimeiit hy pric»tB, con- 
ducted in tlic nnnio of God. 

In the new ByMcm Kbcl wan the chief — minister 
und mediator to oil hia floek. Tlie three great Indies 
were hia ngcnta nnd confoBtiora. Diostel, tlie ticry 
puHtor in the Ilahcrbcrg Churcli, was liis ndjiitniit; 
von Ancrswald, the Obcr-PriiHldent, may bo Btylod Ida 
frii-nd; the Graf von Kanitz, tho Graf von Finkcu- 
stcin, tho Gruf von Muiichow, were his licnchmcii. 
Jndgi-8 on the bench, ofliccrs of the garrison, were 
umniig his hnhitual hciircrs. In this hierarchy of tlie 
PrnHitian snintsyou ascended by a hundred stages of 
milk and virtue, from tho hiinihio sacristan up to t)io 
pious Archdeacon — tho man higliest in authority 011 
oartli, because ho stood in intimate rclationtihip witli 

That duality in tho soul of nature which Schonhcrr 
hnd conceived, and Ebel adopted, led by an cosy gra- 
dient into a state of manners, as between brother and 
Hiifter, which would hardly have been thought safo in 
the outer world. Nature is duah Nature is male 
and female. Light is man; water is woman. In 
nature these two elements fuse and change. From 
tlicflc vngue premises Diestcl ia said to have drawn a 
cniiclustnn — which Ebel shrank from admitting, and 
which no ordinary man could have found in theni^ 
that the regenerate man and woman, by virtue of his 
and her regeneration, have had opened out to them a 
wider field and a higher range of lovo. God, ho 
ur^e<l, is love; and man, when ho is perfect, la alito 
love Smiles and greetings uro the alphabet of lovo. 


To whom, if not t<> tlie elect, are given tlie finest 
puUes of tlic heart? To whom, if not to the pnrc 
in faith, are oftorcd the choicest gifts? And what 
gift is sweeter to man tlian the magnetic gU>w 
which passes from brain to brain, through a tender 
dropping of soft tones, a gentle pressure of warm 
Iiandsy a personal contact of chaste lips? Diestel 
went much farther in these speculations than Ebel ; 
and in tlie select society of his church in the Ilaber- 
berg, he practised and permitted freedoms which were 
never dreamt of in the higher circles of the Altstadt: 
but in all these Pietist societies the fraternal kiss was 
^iven and taken as a sacred sign. It was understood 
among them that the bond of brotherhood in the 
Lord was liigher and stronger than any legal tie. To 
the pure all things are pure. But the brothers and 
Bisters were enjoined to accept their privilege of grace 
with a holy purpose, and use them only to a noble 
end. If any taint of carnal love should mingle in 
their joy, the act of spiritual dalliance was said to be 
changed into a deadly sin. They were only free so 
long as they lived in the true liberty of the spirit. 

Yet, in spite of the Arclideacon's great success in 
the high places of fashion, he made few, if any con- 
verts to his church, where lie most desired to win 
tliem, — among the students and professors in the 
claAs-room. Unlike the Pauper-Paraclete, Ebel felt 
no enmity to learned men. On the contrary, lie was 
anxious to gain their favor, and to reconcile the pro- 
fessors of philosophy with the preachers of religion. 
But the men of science stood aloof from him and all 
his doings. Two or three professors, of liigh standing 
as scholars, who had been drawn to the side of Sehon- 
lierr when he seemed to bo founding a new school of 
piety among working-men, remained for a little while 

THE kukuax.s. iit 

ill coiincctioii with F.l>el iiml tlio cirdoa of tlic Alt- 
Btailt Cliurcli. Olio of tli«»c men woh Trofcsaor Bii- 
jnck, a naliiniliBt, from whom, it waa nftcnviinia 
iillezcil, lliti riuqicr-pAracIcto got the only shretU of 
wii-iifo which ho over knew. Anotlicr was Hermann 
DlsliiiiiMC-n (hnitlier of the etill more famous Justus 
OUliauKcii), who lillcil the cliair of divinity. lie had 
la>cii drawn to the side of Schonlierr, whose pupil ho 
liad hcconie, and whoso lifo ho wrote. But noithor 
the man of st/icnce nor Uio divine could bo drawn 
inrn nil}- cordial union witli the Archdciteon and his 
ariftiicratic cliurcli. Ilcrninnn Olshuuiivn, liko his 
lirotiicr Justus, the renowned Oriental scholar, leaned 
tiiwurds the lihenils, both in liis politics and in his 
11-li^'ion. A I'au per- teacher seemed to him a man for 
the titiK-i4in which his lot was cast, and the people among 
ivliom he dwelt; and the religious revival ought, in 
liis view, to have been curried fonv'ard in the streets 
and in the workshops, among the mechanics and tmd- 
em, — not, as Ebcl and Diestel were now conducting 
it, ill the high social circles of the Chureli and tho 
Si-Iiloss. When the fasliionablc preacher parted from 
the humble prophet, llcrmnnu Olshausen, thougli he 
■lid not quarrel with Ebol, then and there, took part 
with Sdiijiiherr, provoking a feud between tho pulpit 
iiiiil the pi-ufcssor's chair, which at^rwurda grew into 
!i loud and bitter war. 

One convert of importiinco only from tho scientific 
clauses joined tho Ai-ehdeacon's church. This eon- 
vert was Sachs, a young man then unknown to fame, 
but fated to rise a few years later into lurid and 
ealnmitous renown. He was tho most fatal convert 
whom the Archdeacon made. 

Luilwig Willielm Boehs, a young Jew, sharp of 
tongue and (luick of brain, a man with little hoort, 

118 Sl'IlilTUAL WIVEii. 


uud with lc»8 conscience, had come from Gross Qlogaii 
to Koni^j^Hhcrg in search of a medical chair. Of his 
givat ability in his line of life, no doubt was felt even 
then, while he was yet young; but he was born to 
the wretched lot of a Jew ; a race which lay beneatli 
tin ancient curse and a modern ban. No Jew couM 
then be appointed to a professor s chair, and a pro- 
fessor's chair was the object on which Sachs had set 
his soul. A man with no sense of religion, with 
hardly a gleam of moral softness, — a being all brain 
and ner\'e, cold in nature, quick in perception, acrid, 
humorous and splenetic, — he looked about the worhl, 
and took Iiis measure of the men with whom ho might 
liave to deal. In the medical society of Konigsberg, 
where his tongue was feared and his talent prized, he 
had risen as high as a Jew couhl hope to rise, — into 
tiie rank of physician. If he wished to rise yet 
higher, he must deny his fathers and forswear his 
faith. In his later days. Professor Sachs was known 
as Mophistophiles, — a name which he earned right 
well by his daring spirit, his cynical phrase, and his 
contempt for religion. He made a mockery of sacred 
things. In the lecture-room, he would pause in a 
discourse on anatomy to pour out his venom upon 
some passage in Holy Writ In the name of science 
he would protest, with a biting acid, against the 
sacred mysteries of our faith. In bis secret heart he 
regarded preachers as the common enemies of our 
race, to whom no quarter need be shown by a man 
of wit As a medical officer, he pretended that he 
had cause to know that students of theology were the 
most abandoned of all the student tribe. One lad, 
Mrith a ruined constitution, went to him for advice. 
**You arc a student of theology?" said Sachs, with 
his usual sneer. "No, Ilcrr Professor," replied the 


THE EliKfJAXS. \\9 

la<l; "I ^^^ ft fttmlcnt of law," "Then I would 
ndviAc voti to change your profcwion. You would 
make ail excellent divine." 

In juili^in^ of this man'ii course of life, it is only 
fair to remember the wicrifices which ii bail law com- 
])oIlc<l him to make, before hi8 genius as a teacher of 
anatomy could find itn field. 

In rrnssia, the Ministry of Public Education has 
cluip'c alike of all affairs in the churches and all affairs 
in tlie colleges; and thus it chanced that the very same 
]iuwor in Uerlin which had made Kbel an archdeacon 
ronid make Sjichs a professor. IIow could he «;cct at 
l^aron von Altcnstein, who was then minister in Ber- 
lin ? Throu«ch von Auerswald, Ober-Priisident in 
]\i')ni,irj*hcri^. But Sachs had no acquaintance with 
the Schlo^s. That was a trifle. Had lie not heard it 
Kii<l that Countcr^s Ida ruled her father? Was it not 
whispered, even in Gross Glogau, that the Archdeacon 
waH all in all with Countess Ida? If, then, Sachs 
could win the Archdeacon, would he not be likely to 
find liim.scif at one end of a chain, the other end of 
w hich lay in the minister von Altenstein's oflice in 
]]erlin, where the things which make men's foHunes 
were m'ul and done? Of course, he knew the faculty 
Would have to recommend him in the first instance, 
and he couhl fairly reckon on so much justice being 
dune; hut as a man of the world, he knew that scien- 
tific merit is not always enough to win the crown% A 
.i;ood word from the Ober-Priisident would nmkc his 
nterit highly conspicuous to a busy minister in Berlin. 
The young Jew made out, as it were, a bill of costs. 
How much was he worth ? Above all, how much was 
he worth to Ebel ? He was known to be a Jew. That 
was a main point in his reckoning. An obscure con- 
vert is worth something; a known convert is worth a 


120 SriniTl/AL WJVKK 

pwnl deal. Was he worth a place? Could he sell 
Moses and the prophets for a Professor's chair? 

Having a cynical spirit, and also a wife and child, 
he went to Archdeacon Ehel ; listened with profound 
attention to his story of the light and water; learned 
that the day of judgment was near at hand ; and then 
ottered himself, along with Madame Sachs and his 
infant son, for instant baptism. The rite was soon 
performed ; Mephistophiles became a member of the 
Altstadt Church ; and then, by way of recompense for 
his advance in virtue, Sachs became, through the good 
ottices of Countess Ida, Professor of Medicine in the 

Sachs was a very nice young man — to look at; Ebel 
had not yet learned to know what he was like when 
touched. Looking on that face, soft as a girPs, the 
Archdeacon, who had recently been toying with the 
mystery of sex in nature, fancied that he saw in it a 
reflex of the water rather than the light. This fancy 
pleased the preacher; since he had begun to dream 
that sex may not be a fixed and final fact, but only a 
stage of growth. Sachs is said to have struck the 
Archdeacon as being a female-male ; a man in whom 
the dual principles of bis creed were found combined. 
£bel Duule much of him, and he made much of Ebel. 




TIIK relation of Ida, Coitntcsii von ilrr OKiboti, to 
A rolnlciK-oii Kbcl, in tlic grontOHt pUKzlc hi wlmt 
miiy III' cnllod ii kcHcs of iiiorul {tuzzlon. TliU wonimi 
14 iloflcrilied on all liiimU nu one wlione vliuractor %riiB 
iiolilor tlinn her noMo birth. To say that she wati 
wiso, ttftectioiiatc, and pwd, i« to use torinn so cold 
that her friciida wonid hunlly rccngiii^io their titiiCHri. 
Mni wlio hiitcd her nnd all her hoiiac OKsigiicd her 
KiK-li gmccfl and rirtucH axt hnvo mrcly met in ono 
iiiDrtal creature. Her father lox'ed her, a» ho loved no 
one cW. Tlio family of hor dead hero, for whom she 
ki'pt her widowhootl, idolized her. All the best funii- 
lioii ill Ost Prcusaen, where the life \<t I'uritnn, courted 
lipr, and waited on her. In KiEnigitbcrg her nanio ia 
Klill mentioned as that of a lady wlio wad tlio light and 
}flory of tlie place. That bitter pen which spared 
neitlicr foe nor friend, and which flung its vitriolic ink 
into every fuec, held back from any abuao of Ida von 
dcr (.iroben. 

Vet the relations of tliis widowed Countess to the 
liiuidiumie Archdeacon were, to wiy no more, of an 
I'Xeecdtngly equivocal kind; as such things arc con- 
Ktnicd by people who have not the privilege of saints. 
They spent much of their time together. They pro- 
tWted to be hound to cucli other by sonio H[)ecial tie. 
Tjicy certainly were not married. Ebcl, it" not Ida, 
used to speak of their friendship us u union of two 


Bonis. On Bomc occasions and to very near disciples, 
the Archdeacon is known to have descrihed the 
Countess aa his Spiritual wife; yet nothing contrary 
to good manners can be supposed to have marked 
their intercourse, since they lived as priest and peni- 
tent, openly towards eacli other, and before all the 
world ; pasf«ing much of their time at the Schloss, 
under the Ober-Priisidcnt's roof. Whatever freedom 
passed between them was supposed to be sanctified by 
their religious vows. 

Ida seems to have considered herself, in some mys- 
tical way, as a candidate for that high function in the 
new kingdom, from which her friend, the Frauleiu 
von Derschau, had lately been deposed. If the millen- 
nium was near at hand, the persons of the Apocalypse 
must be now alive. If, as the Archdeacon taught, the 
first battles of the new era were to be fought in 1836, 
the armies must l>e even then mustering for the strife. 
If the angels and the witnesses were getting ready, 
why not tlic bride ? 

Minna von Derschau was a clever and lovely girl, as 
the Countess Ida began to feel and see. As the two 
best friends of Ebel, they were thrown much together, 
and Ida learned to appreciate the girFs high talents 
as well as to dread her aspiring spirit. She was a lady 
to be feared by any woman, who might have conceived 
a wish to keep the Archdeacon to herself. She had 
known Ebel longer, if not better, than her friend; 
having sought him in his early days, and made herself 
very pleasant to him, while, as yet, he had no great 
ladies in his train. She professed to have gained from 
his teacliing a new life of the spirit She was a bold 
and eager girl, wliom no ordinary fears would daunt. 
Two or three years ago, she liad been a pupil of the 
Archbishop Borowski, who was her father's friend; 



but plie luid left that venerable prelate, to liis deep 
ro;xret, at the call of this handsome preacher in the 
Altstadt Church. Who could say where she would 
Htt>p? Once before, under Ebers hintn of duty, she 
had been willing to throw herself into the unns of a 
man m) unalluring to u lady as the Pauper Paraclete. 
iSiie had come to look uiH)n the Church as of higher 
glory than the world. In her secret heart she waH 
HU!4pected of keeping up the remembrance of her old 
dream of being the Apocalyptic bride. How could 
hUi kn(»w that this quick and lovely girl w*ouId not 
transfer the affections she had been willing to lodge 
in Si'honherr to liis popular and handsome pupil, tlio 
delight of every female eye ? 

The Countess, it is understood, advised her friend 
to marry ; since, as a married lady, she might bo ablo 
to do many things for Kbel and the Church whicli 
could not be expected from her as a single girl. 
Minna said, in answer, that she could not think of 
such things: in truth, she had not yet parted wholly 
fn)m her dream. 

One day, Fraulein von Derschau came to speak 
with Lla about a great discover}*. It was a dread sc- 
crot. Xo one knew it but herself; and she had como 
ii])on it in a flash of celestial light: — Ebel was tho 
fcion of Man ! 

For a long time, the Fraulein said she had been 
exercised in soul about tho Archdeacon. She felt 
that he was more than human ; his face, his voice, Iiis 
bearing, his gentleness, his sanctity, his knowledge, 
being altogether unlike the qualities to be found in 
mortal men. At first, she had thought lie was tho 
true Paraclete, and that Schr>nlierr had been only a 
pretender to that oflice. This conjecture had been 
put away by Kbel himself; wlio clung to his old 


mafttcr, ninl would not lionr hi8 trnthfnlnc88 aR^ailccl. 
What then ? If he were not the raraclcte, was lie 
m»t the Son ? In a flaHh of divhie light, she saw it 
all. He was the Son, the first-born Son; the holy One. 

This grand discovery was kept a secret. Ida felt 
that it was true. After a little while it was made 
known by them to Kanitz, in his <iuality of First Wit- 
ness. He also felt that it was true. After much con- 
sideration they agreed to hold this secret as an inner 
iloctrine, until the year of grace should come, and 
ever}'thing could be published from the house-top. 
Above all, they would not speak of it with Ebel. Of 
course so dread a secret could not fail to show itself 
in their bearing towards their master. How could 
they help becoming fainter in his presence, more 
anxious for his love, more obedient to liis will ? They 
could not deny themselves the profit of extolling his 
lofty faith, his divine sagacity, his untiring tender- 
ness. From that day forth, while they hid among 
themselves the instinct of his Godhood, they spoke of 
him everywhere as the typical perfect man. 

But this grand discovery by the Friiulein von Der- 
schau aflected all the relations of these men and 
women of the inner circle towards each other as well 
SIS towanls the outer world. Who should be nearest? 
who sliould be greatest? who should be the mystic 
bride ? 

Between the Countess and the Friiulein, the scales 
appeared to be so evenly weighted tliat an accident 
might cause either one scale or the other to go up. 
Both were young, noble, beautiful. If one were a 
richer, the other was an older friend. Ida had been 
the Archdeacon's worldly stay. Her friends had 
made his fortune, and her house had been his home. 
On tlie other side, Fraulein von Derschau had been 



liirt firtit clitw-iiilc; wlicn otlicra doulitwl, slic liad bo- 
lincil; mIio liud 1mh>ii the first lady to adojit liix tlieory 
lit' HuiiL-titicAtioii ; in fuct, alie had never jmused in lior 
<'<iiiri>i>, and now alio )iad crowned her workd of fuitli 
hv this grand discovery thut her master waa the Son 
o? Man. 

Tlic Gonntvda winhcd thiit her friend Minna would 
niiirry. Miirry whom? SIio wus well awaro that 
nothing wnnld indues this devoted girl to quit tho 
Klioliun ciri'lf. Who wiin there witliin that circle 
who eonid oltor her his nnme, with iiny chiinco of his 
oHiT hein;; mvci>letl? One num, i>i>rhu|>s, and only 
one. Tliu Gnif v<in Kunitz wjis her e(|nal in birth, in 
liklcnt.and in gmec. lie wns a hero as well as a saint; 
n niun wearing upon his breast thut cross which )io 
iiNo liorc, symbolically, in his heart. More than all, 
Knnitz was tho man who stood next to Kbcl in tho 
('hiircli ; he was an Aiiocalyptic man ; having a part 
til [iliiy in the heavens aa well as on tho earth. Surely 
tlicm' tilings would suflicc to win a woman's love. 
Kiuiitz was warmly loved by tho Archdeacon, not only 
fi>r his tine figure and his high rank, but for his quiet 
heroiim, his gentle manners, and his yicldinj; spirit 
As, since quitting Schiinhcrr, ho had bcon invested 
Willi tho character of the First Witness in the Apo- 
culyiiso, it was through this avenue to his heart that 
lie wai now sounded by Ebcl as to his willingness to 
niurry, in fulfilment of the heavenly plan. Kotbing 
is said in the Book of Revelation as to tho two wit- 
nesses being either mule or female ; the ease is open ; 
und Ebcl told the Ctmnt that Frtiulein von Dersehau 
■KM not only his Spiritual mate; the true partner of 
liis suul ; born to him in the heaven al>ovo as well aa 
ill the earth below; but that they twain were those 
Two Witnesses seen by St. John, who were to pro- 
II • 


I»lie9j togctlier for a tliousand two Iiniulrccl and three- 
score dny8. On hearing tliese wonders, Kanitz went 
to Ills mate, and proposed to lier joyfully; and the 
Fraulein von Dersohau, on the great mystery of the 
Apocalypse being explained to her, entered upon this 
union with a thankful heart. 

Minna's place among the Ebelians was now fixed 
for ever; in time she was the Countess von Kanitz; 
in eternity she was the Second Witness, who had 
power to shut up the heavens and turn the water into 
blood. She eouhl never more aspire to become tlie 

It would seem that Countess Ida, afler seeing Minna 
married to Kanitz, set her mind on seeing the Arch- 
deacon also married. A good and simple woman from 
the outer circle, she thought, would suit him best; a 
woman who would not be a rival of her own ; who 
would not the less serve as a point of union ; and who 
might throw the Archdeacon's house a little more 
open to his high-born female friends. Sucl) a woman 
was found : young, pretty, docile ; and Ebel took her 
as a wife. 

One other lady shared in Countess Ida*s intimacy 
with the Archdeacon, the Friiulein £milie von Schriit- 
ter; one of his earliest followers; a well-born and 
lovely woman, who, like herself, had listened to )m 
mystic words, and undergone the rite of sanctification. 
These three women — widow, wife, and virgin — arc 
said to have formed one spiritual household, and to 
have recognized, each in the other, a good woman, 
filling her proper place in the world and in the 
church. They are described as having felt towards 
each other a peculiar love and tenderness. They con- 
sidered tliemselves as three sisters in the Lord, who had 
been united, through the Archdeacon, in a holy bond. 






rorxTKss ida. 127 

Kbel irt said to linvc de8cri1io<I his relation to theso 
i three young ladies in the followinir way : — The Count- 
] CM Lhi was liis first wife, as representing to liini the 
principle of Light (Lieht-natur) : Eniilic von Schrotter 
was his seeond wife as representing to him the priu- 
eiple of Darkness (Finsterniss-natur): Fran Ehel was 
his thinl wife, as representing to him the prineipic of 
Union (Unifassung). In this triple marriage of tho 
Archdeacon, the simple Frau was to act as tlie legal 
]M>int of contact. In her, and tlirough her, CountesH 
Ma and Fraulein Emilie professed to Iiave entered on 

] their mystic union with her liusband. Ida, as the 
wife who represented Liglit, had every reason to re- 
gard herself as playing the high part of Apocalyptic 

Frau Ebel, a young woman of no high rank and 
Hi/irit, appears to have been kept by her noble sistern 
very much in tho kitchen and tho still-room; places 
in which she seems to have felt herself more at homo 
than in tlie confessional and the ehapter*house. lu 
the great trials which ensued, her name was never 
whispered. No one spoke of her wrongs, and she 
certainly never complained to the world. In tlie 
deanery she was regarded as a kind of magnetic wire 
laid down between tho Archdeacon and his high-born 
Hpiriiual wives. Countess Ida and Fraulein Emilie 
ruled the church, with the help of Gmtin von Kaiiitz; 
hut in the august assembly of female saints the voice 
c»f this humble Frau was never heaixl. Nothing iu 
her conduct ever caused the Countess Ida to become 
jealous of the Archdeacon's lawful wife. 




BESIDES tljc great diHcovcry made by Minna von 
Dcrachau, now tlic Countess von Kanitz, the new 
ariatocrutic circle in tlie Alt^tudt is said to liave had 
two gnuid secrets in its keeping. The first of these 
two secrcta was, the true order of precedence in God's 
Church; the second was, the true mctliod of purifica- 
tion from sin. True order and true sanctification were 
lield by Ebel and his female confessors to be necessary 
ill a perfect Christian life. 

Even in what was seen by outsiders, Ebel appeared 
to have established a very long scale of orders. How 
Tiiaiiy degrees there were is not known ; but I am told 
tliat the steps through which a novice had to pass in 
liis ascent from single membership to the highcBt 
circle, were numbered by the score. Ebel stood at the 
top. Next to him came the three ladies who stood 
ubovc all males. Among men, the highest a]ipears to 
liave been the Kev. Ileinriuh Diestel; for in a pure 
theocracy the clergy must always Uxko the lead. Then 
came the young (iraf von Kanitz, a layman of enthu- 
siastic temper, who aspired to hold the office of 2St. 
John : after these, stood the great nobles, those Miin- 
chows and Finkensteins who made his church the 
fashion; followed by the nobles next in degree of 
rank, such as Enist von Ileyking and Edward von 
Ilalmenfeld; then the learned men, like Professors 
SacIiH and OlshauMcn ; and so on, downwards, through 


juds^*?** soMicrff, counflcllon*, ami the lailioft of flicHC 
hue pooplo, to the poor wicristun who swept the floor 
for ft monthly dole. Tlii^ list was ]o\\g niicl stenily 
kopt. Order is not only heaven's first law, but earth's 
be!»t law. Kvery man in this system kept his place. 

The «^radation of do<(nn\ was apparently like tho 
gradation of rank. Everj* stage of belief had its own 
Hocret. Only in the highest circle of all, composed of 
Countess Ida, Friiulein von Schrotter, and the Count 
and Countess von Kanitz, was it known that Ebel was 
tlie Son of Ood. The next circle only knew him as 
a perfect man. One circle probably understood tho 
principle of sanctification ; another bad to bo con- 
tented with the mystery of light and water; some of 
the members were instructed in tho methods by wliich 
the devil may be overcome; others were told that tlio 
Clinreh of God is a paradise of enjoyment for the liody 
and the soul, since the elect are the only heirs of God. 
The lower circles would seem to have been taught no 
more than the living ]»rinciples of tho Christian faith. 
In each stage of the Chundi, however, tho members 
were led to believe that they knew ever}*thing neces* 
sary to salvation. The fact that a higher truth existed 
than the one nuide known, was always strenuously 
<Ienied^ until tho moment came for the saint to take a 
new step in his faith, when he gratefully accepted tho 
additional light. 2Such, at least, is tho story told by 

Every member of the Church was brouglit to respect 
himself as a great being, a spirit, an angel, a witness. 
lie was told to be of good cheer; to think much of 
himself; to expect great happiness; to bo a joy to 
himself and to all other persons near him, for tho sako 
<>f his high fortunes; tho present earth being his, as 
Well as tho glory which is to como. 


I'M spinrnrAL wives. 

This organization of liiw circle was Ehcra strength. 
No |K>pe ever managed his creatnres with a tinner 
will. So far as his congregation went, the Arch- 
deacon bowed his head to none; not to the Ober- 
Priisident in Konigsberg ; not even to the Minister in 
Berlin. Who were they, that a servant of the Lord 
should fear them ? Never, perhaps, had the tlieocratic 
principle been carried to a higher point than in this 
Prussian societv, and in this Lutheran church. 

This sway of the clergy in Ost Preussen was en- 
larged and riveted by the policy which Ebel adopted 
in regard to confession. In the Lutheran Church, the 
rule as to confession is of doubtful force, and even of 
doubtful meaning; for, while the Augsburg Articles 
declare that private confession ought to be kept U]i, it 
also admits that general confession is not necessary to 
the salvation of souls. This rule has been accepted 
by the German churches in a widely ditlcrent spirit. 
In one place confession has been set aside, as an 
agency of moral evil ; in a second place it lias been 
tolerated as a thing indifferent; in a third place it has 
been encoumged and enforced. Each pastor has held 
himself free to adopt the line most suited to the days 
in which he lived, and the opinions current among 
his flock. Generally, the practice of confession may 
be said to have waxed and waned as the religious 
barometer rose and fell; coming into favor with 
revival of the devotional spirit; falling into contempt 
with the retuni of a worldly spirit. 

£bol, as the preacher of a day of wrath, was bound 
to foster and protect confession. Uigh-Church people 
would not have blamed liim for it. But he is said to 
have carried this practice to a point unknown in the 
Prussian kingdom and the Lutheran books. He in- 
sisted that the revelations made by his penitent should 


bo open aii'l full, gciicnil ami pnrtU'uIar, public and 
privuitf. Kotliiii^c miiKt lit! hidden from liim, uiitl from 
tho three pi-ctit Imlics who licard coiifoBsioiia in liis 
iiiiiii<>. Xothiii}; mnnt Ih< f^hixcd to him ami to tliooc 
foiiiule i«cim.'lier8. Evcrj- nicmljer of hi« Churtth \v«« 
tiiirplit to value the blcpniiiiC" of good advice; ait<l 
KIhsI, aA tho mediator with God, wim to Itc treated &« 
thi! rclVrrco of every woman and every man. "Whii 
could hct)i thcni in their trials if ho could not? Wan 
he not tlu'ir friend, their comfortcrl 

The chief men in hiti circle were hound to prencnt 
tlionisetvcii from time to time hcfi>re tlie Couatcra von 
diT (irijl>en and the Counlo»s v<ni Kanitz, hy whom 
lliey were to lie xcarvhed and iniritied. TrofeMoi 
Siu-hi> hnx given iiomc at-eonnt of tho method of pro- 
ciH'diii^ adopted hy thC)<o ladies towards their peni- 
tentx ; a mixture of i-oaxinj;, wheedling, and dictnting, 
hardly to lie road without a iniigh. It ia droll to tind 
how tlioac ladies overcame tho nuhtle intellect and 
resiKting oelfishnenH of Mephiittophiles Sachs. They 
brought the PrnfcNsor to liis knccx, and tore the inner- 
mojit flccruts from his heart. When they spoke in 
Khel's name, they spoke with a voice of power which 
every one hastened to obey. As tlicy put tho case, 
WHS not the very reverend Archdeacon a husband to 
cviTy woman, a father to every man? Full eunfuMiiun 
must b'- adopted as a rule of daily life; for, if Klicl 
was to jnd;ro every one, it was necessary that nothing, 
liiiwovcr triHing, shonhl be kept from his eyes. 
Wumen were enjoined to a]>cak out; to conceal 
notliing; least of all, their secret affairs and their 
private thoughts. All must ho told; so that the 
Archdeacon, in judging tho church, might fall into no 
error and commit no wrong. 

"Khcl," said to lue an ciuinent I'rofessor, speHkiiig 



of these details, *'wa8 a thorough priest; almost a 

lie liad great talents?*' I said, by way of inquiry. 
Yes; a vcrj' great talent for bamboozling women." 

By means of this true order of precedence in the 
church, through the agency of these ladies, the Arch- 
deacon was very soon master of all tlic mysteries in 
Ost Preussen. 

The second of these great secrets held by the circle 
was the true method of sanctiiication. This sanctifi- 
cation was indittpensable. The world was about to 
end; and sinners had to be prepared for the event. 
How was a man to be made worthy to stand before 
his Judge? Only, said the Archdeacon, by one great 
spiritual act He must be cleansed from sin; he 
must be freed from bondage to Satan ; he must be 
purged from lust of the heart and pride of the eye. 
Ife who would siive his soul alive, must be raised 
above temptation ; must be taught to trample on the 
flesh ; must be nerved to resist the diabolical power 
of beauty. In the presence of a living woman, he 
must be trained to feel as though he were standing by 
a wall of stone. Uis eye must be rendered cold, his 
pulse must be kept calm. No face, however lovely, 
should be able to stir the summer in his veins. With 
unmoved heart, he should be able to press the most 
fascinating sister's hand, to print a kiss on the most 
beautiful sister's lips. While he had not the power 
to do such things easily, a man, said Ebel, was cer- 
tainly not in a state of grace. 

Tlie method by which men and women were sancti- 
fied is still, in some respects, a secret. Kahler pre- 
tended to make it known in his theological romance 
called Philagathos, and Sachs described it in evidence. 
But KaUIcr was not a member of the circle, and Sachs's 

Ssiyf'TiFtCATlOX. 133 

odiouft declarations have been strenuously denied by 
Counter h\n and the Graf von Kanitz. Generally, 
the nicth4)d of nanctitication used by Ebel is thought 
to have consisted in a series of lessons in Gospel 
frivdoni ; which were meant to fortify the mind of liis 
t\»llu\verH against the allurements of cannd beauty. 
Thus, it is told, that ft youthful member was traine^l 
hv precept and example, to use his freedom without 
ainirting it. In the private meetings of the sect, which 
are said to have taken place in either the Ccmntess 
Ida's apartments in the Schloss, or in Griiiin von 
Kanitz' house in the Upper Town, some beautiful 
woman was persuaded to liare her arm, her foot, her 
sliouldor; so as to present, in the eyes of all the circle, 
a living tvpe of the teniptati4>ns thrown by Satan in 
the wavs of men. The minds of the devotees were 
HUpposed to he tempered and hardened in this tSpiritual 
tire. How far these lessons in the art of resisting 
beauty went, we do not absolutely know; when the 
day of K(*andal came, it wus said they had gone very 
far indecil, before the pi*ocess of sanctiti cation had 
been found complete. The cynical pen of ISachs do- 
lighted in suggesting the most horrible details. 

In the nnitter of this gospel freedom, as in every 
other, the true order of preccdeneo was observe^l. 
Kl»cl and Diestel, having a larger share of grace, had 
also a larger liberty in faCt than the laymen. I have 
not heard that either Graf von Kanitz or Graf von 
Finkenstein was allowed to imlulge in Spiritual lN>lyg- 
aniy. Each had his right to u spirit bride, and each 
had the privilege of giving and taking the seraphic 
kiss. But Ebel and Diestel are supposeil U) have gouo 
mueh farther, though the flagrant immoralities which 
were afterwards brought against them by Sachs may 
not have been proved. 

13 » sriniTL'AL WIVES. 

Sachs \v;is a zealous convert, and he rose in the 
Church. Among other ways in which he promised 
to he imcful was that of calling in more Jews to thu 
fold. Bible in hand, he used to go about the street, 
entering into the houses of his old friends, whom he 
had now discarded for gain. One eminent and aged 
lady told me she remembers him coming to her house 
with the German Bible in his hand, which he opened 
and began to read. She caught him tripping in a 
jdirase, and »jfave him the proper words. Mephis- 
tophiles could not restniin a smile. "My dear Pro- 
fessor," saiil the girl, "you had better close that book 
for the present: we carry our Bible in our hearts, not 
in our hands." 

Two. calamities, which came near together, gave a 
sudden shock to the prosperity of this revival church. 
One misfortune fell within the circle; the other, and 
more fatal, fell without. One was the failure of a 
prophecy, in which the Archdeacon had indulged ; the 
other was the death of Ober-Prasideut von Auerswald, 
and the nomination of a philosophical liberal to his 
throne in the Schloss. 











EKX from a worldly jioiiit of view, the cliief nii.s. 


O take of Arc'luloacon Ebera life appeam to have 
hoon his error in fixing u|kmi the actual timetf when 
prophecy oui^^ht to he fultilled. 

Jiin^ Stillin<rf an author whom he loved to read and 
(|U<)t<% had promised that the year 1836 would be a 
time of wonders ; the opening stage of the millennium, 
in which the first great battles of the kingdom would 
I he fought. Ehel had from an early day adopted thin 
I reading of his mystic country man ; but the year being 
} yet afar off, his adoption of StilUng's prophecy cuused 
; no artual ferment in the Church. 
I Hut this dabbling in sacred numbers was not enough 

for the Archdeacon. Much pondering on the B(H>k 
of Daniel led him to expect a great awakening in the 
Church in 1823, the year in which the Holy Alliance 
sont a French army to burn and ravage Sjiain. Kx- 
l»ecting the appearance of our Lord in person (Kbel 
never lent himself to Minna*8 delusion), he venture<l 
to declare that lie would come in the Easter week, at 
the moment corresponding to that of His ascent from 
the Mount of Olives. A whisper went through tlio 
circles. Meetings were called, prayers offered up, and 
helievers enjoined to prepare for that coming day. 
Christ, it was said, would appear among His saints in a 
glorified shape, clothed in celestial light, as He shone 

136 SrilUTrAL WIVES, 

upon the tliroe Apostles from the hill of the Tnins- 
ligii ration. 

Who would he ahlc to endure that siij^ht and live? 
How were they to meet the Lord? Where 8hould 
they await His comin*^? Some thought it should bo 

in ehurch, others that it should he at home. Most of 
tlie brethren felt that tliey should be toj^ether, since 
tlie Lord would expect to find His Church on earth. 
Nor was it well, they urged, to mope and whine. 
Their God was a God of love and light. Joy weut 
with Him, and gladness was about His path. Some 
one suggested that the true welcome should be given 
at a nuirriage-feast, a scene like that in which the first 
miracle had been wrought What had been the open- 
ing scene of his first ministry, should be the opening 
8ceno of his second. All voices fell into this idea, and 
}irei>arations for a marriagejestival were set on foot. 
A young man was found who, under such august 
temptations, was ready to take a wife. The circles 
were now searched for a young woman willing to unite 
herself with this young man. Such a girl was found. 
Nothing remained but to kill the fatted calf, to deco- 
nite the cliurch with garlands, and to spread the tables 
with meat and wine. 

Countess Ida, Friiulein Kmilie, Countess Minna, with 
' all the ladies of the circle, entered upon this scheme 
for meeting the Lord with ar(h>r; not so some of the 
more pru<lent and worldly men ; who felt that they 
were staking their credit on a calculation of datc^ 
which might prove to have been false ; in which case 
they would find themselves covered with ridicule 
almost amounting to public sliame. From such a test 
of faith tliey would have gladly shrunk. One of the 
highest of these prudent councillors, the Qi*af von 
FinkensteiUy ventured to put in a word of caution. 




The lailicrt PtornicMl ujmiii him. Khol 8milo<l at h 
hu'k of tUith, and DicHtcl renrovod him for his worWC 
spirit. FinkeuKtcin ^ot restive under these rehukes 
and, when hi:^ own sinter raised up her voice against 
him, he quitted the circle in no gentle mood. Pro-^^^ 
fi'ssor Sachs, thougli lie sharecl in the Graf von Finken- ^ 
Ktein's want of faith, was not such a fool as to speak 
his mind. In truth, he had lately made a mistake, 
which is rather amusing in so keen a gamester. IIo 
had put himself wliolly into KhcKs power. 

Having lately lost his first wife, the young Silosian 
Jewess, it was feared that Sachs wouhl fall into bad 
wavs, and become a scandal to the ehureli. The ladies 
liad called him to account for his past delinquencies; 
anil the Countess von Kanitz had been desired by her 
sisters to liear his confession, to fix his penaiice, and, 
when he had repented, to receive him into grace. 
She had been very sharp with him ; insisting that he 
should make a clean breast of his sins; concealing 
notliing, not even the guilt incurred in thought. 
Saelis had told her much, ami she had insisted on 
hearing all. She had probed his lieai*t. She had 
ilietated forms of expression ; and when she had 
drawn from tlio sinner a full acknowledgment of his 
guilt, she had insisted on his going Iiome, writing it 
all down, and bringing it to her hi person, bct'ore she 
would give him the reconciling kiss. That written 
]»aper had given evidence against Sacbs, in his own 
liand, of extraordinary turpitude, and that paper of 
confession had been lodged by the Countess von 
Kanitz in DiesteVs hands. 

Under these adverse circumstances, Mephistophiles 
could do nothing but sneer and sigh: and humbly 
accept the post which was given to him by Ida in tho 

12 ♦ 

^^« sri RITUAL WIVES, 

E;i8ter came ; bri<le<jrooin niul hn<le apjionred; the 
iV»af»t waif* Hprcjul; the psahn was duly snn*^; but the 
Expected Gucrtt did not arrive. 

When the marriage-festival broke up in wrath and 

^loubt, and (iraf von Finkcnstein appeared to have 

^*CiMi justified by facts, the inner cirele of believers laid 

tlie bhmie of their disappointment on the Count*8 un- 

l>olief. When tliey heard that all the worldlings in 

tlie city and provinces were laughing over their feast, 

^1»<*3' grew more and more angry with the Count for 

liaving caused it to fail. How could the Lonl be ex- 

l>ectcd to appear in the presence of one so hard of 

lieart? All the ladies were enraged against their 

faiithless brother; and when bespoke in his own de- 

fiMKo, which he was apt to do warmly, they went so far 

as to menace him with a public expulsion from their 

irhurch. As such a course would not have suited 

CMther his frame of mind or his position in society, 

Vinkenstein bent his head to the passing gale: but 

from that time forward he was regarded as a man who 

had moved outwanls from the centre of grace and 

light. His want of faith was the cause of a growing 

coldness between himself and a sister whom he dearly 


This quarrel within the circle was envenomed by a 
circumstance which happened without. A clergyman 
of some repute in the city, the Very Kev. Ludwig 
August Kiihler, took advantage of the public scandal, 
to put the Archdeacon and his followers into that dull 
theological romance which he called Philagathos: the 
Kingdom of the Good made Known. 

Xo u;\mcs were given in this work; for it would 
have been a dangerous thing in that old Preussen, 
openly to assail a party which had the Schloss on its 
side, and was supported by so many counts and barons, 


as that of the Kheliaiu'. Yet Kiihlor'M Aiitiricnl pietu 
of tho kin^clotn of the Buiiits was applieil hy every on*' 
to Khi'l and his friemls; for in one part of his 8t«»ry 
voun*' hnly \a taken hy a female friend to a nieetin 
of preten<led nainta, who adopt her into their eircle 
nn<I then begin kissing lier all ronnd ; to whirh rito 
of initiation she submits until she observes a young 
follow approach her who is known to her by reputa- 
tion as the greatest profligate of her city; when she 
Htarts to her feet in horror, runs home, frightened and 
silk at heart, throws hei'self on her knees, and con- 
fosses to her outraged ]iarents all that she has seen 
and suffered. The suggestion of oddity was very 
bn»ad ; but Ebel could not reply without seeming to 
take up the accusation ; and Kiihler enjoyed the satis- 
faitit»n of seeing his adversaries wince under a charge 
which they could neither bear nor rebut. 

A far wider and more lasting injury fell upon tlie 
Kbdians fvoin the death of Auerswald, — an event 
which happened in the following year; and the nomi- 
nation to his high post of a nuui whose temper and 
genius placed him on the opposite side in politics to 
their own. 

Iloinrich Theodor von Schon, the man succeeding 
to Aucrswald as Ober-Priisident of Ost and West 
Prcnssen in 1824, was one of the great chiefs of 
modern democracy; the pupil and friend of Immanuel 
Kant ; the son-in-law of Aucrswald, whoso eldest 
daughter was his wife; the right haiMl, and (whatever 
his detractors may have 8ai<I to the contrary) the best 
head of the great minister Baron von Stein, the prime 
regenerator of Northern Germany. Of an old and 
noble family in Ost Preussen, connected with the 
Auerswalds and the Briinnecks, he was not the less a 
thorough liberal, a patron of learning, a hater of 


I orients. A man of Inrge head, with pieiving eyes, a 
»l»rew4l tongue, and a benevolent lieart, the new Ober- 
I^riisidcnt was both feared and loved in his province, 
«^nd very few persons had either the power or the will 
to 8ct themselves up against what he had a mind to do. 
At first, the change in EhePs affairs was not much 
fcdt. Schon was not a man to meddle with the Church, 
So long as clergy and congregation kept the peace and 
avoi<led public scandal in their rites. The Archdeacon 
stood ut the head of a powerful cliapter, as well as in 
front of a fashionable sect. Such a minister of the 
^o^pel might do much to disturb even an Ober- 
Pruj*i«lent'8 reign ; and a magistrate, young in office, 
M'hatever his abstract views may be, is seldom inclined 
to bring a nest of clerical hornets about his. ears. 
Countess Ida, too, was still, as it were, in power. Von 
Sehcin was her brother-in-law; the husband of her 
eldest sister; so that the fascinating widow was nearly 
as much at home in the Schloss as she had been duriiiir 
her father's time. Thus, nothing unjust or harsh was 
likely to be done by Schon ; and, in fact, the Ebelians 
enjoyed under his impartial rule many years of pros- 
perity and peace. 

But (vo\\\ the day of Aucrswald*s death, the circles 
felt that a change had come upon them, in relation to 
their contests with the University and with the world. 
They were no hmger privileged to fight, as it were, 
under the royal flag. They had nothing more to get 
from the Schloss. If Sclion would do them no wrong, 
he certainly would not strive, like Auerswald, to do 
them gcNid. No more chairs in the University would 
be won by courting them. No one could expect to be 
repaid for his kindness to them by invitations to din- 
ueniund balls. Future Kiihlcrs would have no reason 
to conceal their names. Those who mocked them, 

DAliKKR DAYS, 141 

woiilil i\o Ro to tlioir face*. Tho«c who hated tliem, 
wouhl 8ho\v their liatrcd in the street. In a wonl, 
tlioy would Iiave to phin their own battles, and tuko 
tlieir olianco8 in an open fight. 

In tills Croat dnel between the laymen and divines, 
between the ITniversity and the Church, it was known 
tliat the new Ober-Prasident would stand and fall with 
the tirnt. In his quick and sceptical nature thcro was 
not a Hpark of mysticism. He was in eminent degree 
a critic, a logician ; who looked to science, not to 
n*ligion, for the great improvements which ho longed 
\i\ bring al>out. Schon was very free with his money ; 
lie spent three fortunes; but he is BupiM)sed never to 
have given a groschen in his life to anj* object con- 
nected with the Church. This state of things in the 
govcniniont oificc was equal to an absolute change of 

One eftect of this change was quickly seen. That 
Sachs whom Countess Ida had made a Professor, by 
way of reward for his docility in swallowing the 
ilotcma of light and water, very soon left the Altstndt 
circles; going over to the University, and carrying 
his talents and his secrets to the service of what ho 
saw was going to be in future the stronger side. 

The Hev. Hermann Olshausen, Professor of divinity, 
was perhaps the most brilliant and formidablo of the 
many foes who now began to write and preach against 
the Kbelians. Diestel entered the field against 01s- 
hansen : since it was judged by the council of ladies 
to be alien to the rank and office of their chief to 
notice such attacks. Diestel was a very passionate 
and unscrupulous man, and Olshausen had no reason 
to rejoice in the victories which he won. In 18S3 two 
clergymen went mad in Konigsberg, under circum- 
stances which excited public curiosity in a high degree. 


Some persons siiid that these two persons had lost 
their senses through religious terror; and as they had 
been known to attend the Ilaberberg Church, where 
Diestel preached, Olshausen charged their insanity 
iil>on the violence of spirits caused by the revival. 
Diestel, finding himself assailed by this eminent 
writer, answered by a savage personal attack. 

In his younger days, Diestel had been a student in 
the faculty of law; and, having a natural genius for 
invective, he had stored up all the terms of abuse 
which might have been useful to him in a criminal 
court His blows were rude and stiff; and the more 
delicately nurtured divines denounced him as a coarse 
fellow, unworthy of their pens. It is very doubtful 
whether he was a man more formidable to his enemies 
than to his friends. 

ciiaptp:r XIX. 


'TlBEL, following in the wake of Bengel and Stilling, 
-Ci had once more fixed upon the year 18S6 as the 
time at which the first battles of the millennium would 
begin. The devil, however, seemed ill-disposed to 
wait until his enemies expected him. He opened his 
campaign a year before the prophetical time. 

Graf von Finkenstein had now become a stranger 
to the Church, and to the sister whom he loved. The 
Church had cast him out into darkness ; and his sister 
had been drawn into closer union with the saints, 
until the unexpected and undesired death of Oriifin 
Toil Eanitz (Minna von Derschau) let't the post of 

LA ir cory^ 143 

Second WitnoRs open ; when Ehol advanced her to 
that high dignity, and the First Witness, aa a con^c- 
nucMicc of her promotion, offered lier hia hand. The 
two witnesses being joined in marriage, the Qrafin 
von Kinkenstein became, not only Madame von ICanitx, 
hut the third female power in the Church; equal in 
couni'il, if not equal in rank, to the Archdeacon's 
^^l•iritual wives. 

One dav the Graf von Finkcnstein heard that his 
histor, and lier female friends, were trying to dniw 
into tlieir circle a young lady of his family, the Frnu- 
loin Zdina von Mirbach; a rich and lovely girl, who 
wns oxpccte<l to nuiko a brilliant figure in the world. 
Thinking it became him, as head of the family, to 
warn his lovely kinswoman against what he had now 
come tt» regard as a seductive and immoral circle, ho 
wrote a letter to Fraulein Zclina, filled witli abuse of 
Khel and Diestel; in winch he hinted at the existcnco 
among those saints of practices which no honest man 
and modest woman could endure ; which hints ho said 
he could prove to be only too well warranted by origi- 
nal documents then in his possession. Quite innocently^ 
Zclina carried this note to her friend and kinswoinan 
tlie Countess von Kanitz, who read it with the utmoHt 
Mcorn and fury, calling it a string of abomimiblo licH. 
(jetting the upper council together, she placed her 
brother's letter in their hands; and when those ladies 
liad perused it, they agreed that, although they ought 
not to trouble the divine repose of their beloved Arch- 
deacon with such unworthy broils, it should be properly 
answered. They sent it over to the Ilaberberg to bo 
dealt with as Diestel should see good. 

Graf von Finkcnstein soon saw reason to regret his 
haste in sending that warning note to bis young kins* 


Fraalein von Mirbach instantly joined the Pietist 
circle. Tlie Conntess, his sister, quarrelled with him 
finally and fiercely; not only putting him away from 
her love as a lost and abandoned wretch, but claiming 
restitution of dowry, which she declared tlmt he had 
fraudulently detained. 

Kanitz denounced him in the religious newspapers 
by name, as a man of immoral life and conversation ; 
hinting that the Countess von Finkenstein, his wife, 
was nearly as low in such things as himself. 

Worst of all, he found himself suddenly uttacked 
by that rough master of calumny the Kev. Ileinrich 
iJiestel, the Seal-breaker of the Apocalypse. Diesters 
Tuissive filled thirteen sheets of large paper, and it wtm 
crammed with such insults as none but Diestel could 
have hurled against a foe. 

Finkenstein, who thought he could convince his 
brother Count, sent a reply to Kanitz, to the same 
rcligiousjournal in which he Imd found himself suddenly 
assailed ; but not being able to sec how he could deal 
with his clerical opponent, either in the simple \\i\}' 
of fact or in his own way of sturdy invective, he laid 
the missive of thirteen sheets before the criminal court 
as a calumnious libel. On reading DicstePs letter, 
the judges fined the* reverend gentleman two hundred 
thalers for his offence; and then inquired, as thev 
were bound, into the causes wliich had led to this 
angry Qorres|K>n<lence. Diestel had been charged with 
immorality by the Count, in a letter which was designed 
to prevent a young lady, of noble family, from joining 
the Arclideacon Ebel's circle in the Altsta<It Church. 
That letter referred to original papers in the Count*s 
possession, which would prove the truth of this charge. 
What were these documents ? Charges of such a kind 
should nut be lightly made ; most of all against minis- 

I LA ir roi'KTs, w 


ten* of the gospel who had the cure of souls. Finkcn- 
stoiii was requested to produce these papers, and 
Biihmit them for inspection to the court. 

The (tnif appeared before the hench with a mass of 
j»npcrs, written by himself and by his wife. He was a 
violent, puzzle-headed fellow, who had very odd notions 
about documents and proofs. The accusations which 
he made against Kbel, Diestel, Kanitz, Countess Ida, 
and the hite Fraulcin von Derschau, were numci\ins, 
many of thom improbable, and most of them nnsus- 
taincd hy any show of proof. One of his suggestions 
\\i\n that Kbel, under cloak of a pious rite, had made 
propos^als of an unseemly kind to his lady, the Coun- 
ter:* von Finkenstein; but this hint was conveyed in 
very obscure language, was not followed up, and was 
goiierally disbelieved. The court could make nothing 
of hi."* charges of immorality; but, as he declared that 
the Kbelians held a number of secret doctrines quite 
unknown to the Lutheran Church, they thought the 
innttor should be laid before the Consistorium ; a court 

I in Konigsberg having cliarge of ecclesiastical affairs. 

In this court, the enemies of Kbel were very strong. 

Von Schon, the liberal and free-thinking Ober-Priisi- 

dent, was it.s chairman (ex-oflit^io); high on its benches 

sat the hostile critic of the Kbelians, the Very Kev. 

I liudwig Kiihler. From such a tribunal Ebol knew 
that he had now no favor to expect. 

When Finkenstein*s papers were laid before the 
Consistorium, that body deputed two of its members 
— the Councillor Kiihler and the Assessor Zander — 
to examine the Count, and some other jicrsons named 
by him, as to the matters allege<I against Kbel and 
]>iestel in his letter to Fraulcin von Mirbach. Kah- 
Icr's report (as might have been expected from the 
author of Philaguthos) was so black that the Court 
13 K 


146 SriniTUAL WIVES. 

felt bound to bu^iicihI the two clergymen from their 
pastoral office, and to send an account of the matter 
to Baron von Altenstein, Minister of EcclesiaHticai 
Aifaira in Berlin, for his opinion. In the course of 
thc»M5 inquiries, whicli were carried on in secret, Kiih- 
ler and Zander got alarmed on finding how great was 
the number, how high the station of men and women 
whom they had good grounds for considering as mem- 
bers of the suspected circles. They seemed to he 
collecting rumors against half the noble families of 
Ost Preusscn ; and thoy desired, if anything was to 
bo done, that the odium of conducting such a case 
should rest upon higher reputations than their own. 

Even the Count and Countess von Finkcnstein felt 
the need of protecting their good name against the 
power of these high-born ladies, who could whisper 
away a reputati<m between a smile and a sigh. When 
they found their honor put in question, they sent 
about among their friends, who had known them 
from childhocMl, to get up a general statement of their 
'high chanictcr, with a request that those friends 
would sign it. Great numbers of noble and respect- 
able people did so, publishing their belief that the 
Graf and Gnitin von Finkenstein were persons of un- 
blemished honor; and Finkenstein had to be satisfied 
with the protection thus aflbrded to his name. Yet 
nothing could prevent such a general warranty of high 
character from working two ways. On one side 
)»coplc said, and justly, tluit a noble gentleman and 
a noble lady, who had done nothing of doubtful pro- 
priety, would never have stooped to defend themselves 
by papers w^hich were only proper to an artisan and a 
serving-maid. On the other side, it was very fairly 
alleged that, if these noble persons, after being mem- 
bers of the Archdeacon's church for many years, could 

j^A "' COURTS. ifl 

Mill W tlewribed l»y tlinw whotaiew tliem ns pciwns 
wf the liiylK'rtt t-rcdit ati'l ropiitatioii. it wiw imiMMwible 
to crtiiclnde that the nu'r« liict of bcloiigttijr to that 
cin-Ii- wan oviilciiwj of u mstn bcinjj wiliuiut lioiicsty, 
uikI n woman witliotit sUaint;. 

FinkciiHttiiirit wnitli ftftiiiiiBt Via Biwtcr unil her huB- 
Itaiiil, who had called htm n rulcc, niid trictl to prove 
him a Hwiiidlcr, drew him into the comminsion of a 
ihiiitflniid fuMlGfl. Diit the heggiii^ of that f;eiicml 
Ipstiiiioiiial of lira purity wait ecrtaiiily the BillicHt act 
iif his life. 

After sonic dchiy in Jtorliii, the Miuidter Alteiistciii 
sent the pa|>crs backtoSchun; with certain qucrica 
which he lU-flired to have laid by the Ohcr-rriistdciit 
bi-riire the local oiid elericnl court; mainly jmt with a 
view to ascertain how far that trihnnal rct;nnled the 
mattorn alleged in these charj:cH a;^in»t two eminent 
and popular prcachcm as ttt mihjccts for a lay iiivoflti- 
pition. Schon laid these qucricB before tlic court, 
wliicli, under Kiildcr'a advice, appcani to liai*c re- 
IK>rtcd that thei>c charfrcH againat Kbel and Dicstcl in- 
volved two jKtintit, iKtth of which might be verj' prop- 
erly inveatigated by the king's judges; that was to 
Miy; (1) a charge of Bueli extraordinary niomi cor- 
ruption, as, if proved, would bring tho two men with- 
in the action of a criminal court ; and (2) a charge of 
seeking to establish a new religious sect, an offenco 
wliieh was punishable by tho Prussian code. On re- 
ceiving this opinion from tho ConsistoHum, Altcnateiii 
confirmed tho previous suspension from office, and the 
Ober-Priisidcnt, von Schon, instructed tlio Criminal- 
Seiiat to bring an action against Ebol and Dieatel ia 
the Criminal Court 




EBRT^ and his enemies — the High Church and its 
i atlvcrsaries — the feudal party and the liberals — 
were now before the courts of law, with charge and 
counter-charge, with accusation and defamation ; the 
vvholc business being conducted in the spirit of a duel 
to the death. 

In such a strife the odds were fearfully against the 
party which saw the whole army of placemen led by 
the government^ drawn up in line of battle on the 
opponent's side. That, in the final struggle, was the 
Archdeacon's case. 

Eleven years of office had made some dificrence in 
von Schon. They had not rendered him unjust or 
even inclined him to be unjust towards the high 
church ; but they had helped to identify his reign as 
Obcr-Priisident of Preussen, more and more closely 
with the progress of secular learning and the growth 
of lil>eral institutions. The idea of a new Germany 
had come into his mind ; of a Germany that should 
be enlarged, united, free. This idol of his imagina- 
tion was to be a child of reason, and its birthplace 
was to be the University. It shaped itself to his eye 
as a thing of the future rather than of the past Feu- 
dal traditions were to have scarcely any place in it; 
superstition was to have no place in it; learning was 
to be its only gospel ; professors were to be its only 

F/XAL miALS, 149 

On tliia fifrnrc of an uloal (ionnany, Sohon had 
|>nii(loro<l until he thought it was artually coming into 
life. Everything that stood in itn way, lie lahored to 
remove ; and among thene obntacIeB lie had come to 
recognize the high-church circle in the Alt.stadt, over 
whicli his beautiful sister-in-law, the Countess Ida, 
was supposed to exercise her sovereign sway. With 
this beautiful woman he had lately been sit feud, about 
a family matter in which the Kbelians had been much 
concerned. A gentlennin, of good family in Ost 
rrcussen, Ilerr von Bardelcben, who had courted, 
niarried, and then divorced Ernestine, one of Ida*a 
sisters, came to the Schloss with oftcrs of his h)vo to 
his divorced wife*s niece, the Friiulein von Sciion. 
Von lianleleben was a man in .office, and his suit 
found favor in the young lady's eyes; and on Sclion 
giving them his blessing, the happy lovers were niado 
man and wife. Ernestine, the divorced lady, wa8 a 
member of Ebcl's circle, and the great people of that 
church arrayed themselves on her side in her quarrel 
with the families of von Bardcleben and von Schon. 
It was in these dark days of family feud, that Schou 
launched against his sister-in-law's friends the oppro- 
brious name of Mucker. 

When the charge of immorality was brought against 
Khel and Diestel, the matter was first referred to one 
of the judges, who took upon himself the office of an 
Inquirent; who has to look up the facts, confront the 
witnesses, and give the matter in dispute a preliminary 
hearing. The fiery Seal-breaker behaved so insolently 
before this judge, as to give his prosecutors a great 
advantage over him. lie rage<l and stormed, and even 
gmssly insulted the judge, because he could not see 
things with clerical eyes; and at the very opening 
Htagc of the trial he was committed to five nionthn 


of iniprisotimcnt in a fortress for contempt. It is not 
unlikely that his enemies fancied they had now got 
rid of him. 

Amon<^ other witnesses to fact, the Inquirent sum- 
moned Countess Ida to appear. She proudly refused his 
BummonSy denying his power to ask her any questions 
which involved an inquisition of her conscience. The 
Inquirent caused her to be told that she was bound to 
answer his citation, under penalty of line and impris- 
onment. She took no notice ; on which he lined her 
two hundred thalers. On hearing of this fine being 
laidy she sent him word that he might send her to 
prison also, but should never force her to appear in a 
case which would ollend her conscience. The In- 
quirent, puz/Jed how to act, sent the Countess's letter 
tOk.his experienced elder, the IVesident, who sent it 
back with a marginal note that they would consult 
their own ease by leaving her alone, since no threat 
they could make would bend so proud a spirit. What 
could the Inquirent do to sustain the dignity of his 
court? He could not send the Ober-Prasident's sister- 
in-law to a fortress, as he had sent the Ilaberberg pas- 
tor, and yet he did not like to be beaten by a woman 
on a point where he was clearly in the right He con- 
sulted his friends, who could not help him. By a third 
person he caused the countess to be told that the fine 
of two hundred thalers might be increased. ^^Let 
bim fine, and tine/' she answered : '^ I will never come 
into his court*' Every man in Konigsberg knew of 
what was going on, and for the sake of public justice, 
it would not do to let the mob suppose that the bench 
bad been detied. The Inquirent laid the facts before 
his great chief in Berlin ; on which the Minister of 
Justice advised him to keep quiet, to leave the coun- 
tess alone, and to give the matter such u turn as would 


leuve tlie lni]>reMioii tltut liur cvidcuco watt not dc- 

Acting on tliiri soiiinl lulvic-e, the Court cuiiecllotl tho 
tine, »nd aoiit the two huiitlrud tlialcra bovb to tho 
Cduiiti'M Ida. 

fiiaclifl now oftVrcd his ttcrvivca as a witncM who 
kiiuw, and woul<l tell, the truth ngiuiist theao accuMcd 
cK>rgj'intfi) ; out of which ofter, on the part of this 
rrvrcawr, there came a scene wliich is perhajts uii- 
c(|niitlcd ill tlic comedy of actuul life. 

Oti Sachs ottering hinisctf ah a witiicsn, tlic dcfuiid- 
niitfi niiidc a Ibniinl protcsL Tho eminent I'rofeiwur 
ol* Moiiiciiio, they wiid, was a mmi whoso word could 
iii>t he pi-oiicrly received in a court of justice. Of 
cinin>c the Inquirent nsked for dctnils. I'nttVssor Sa<:hit 
was a pcrHon of great intelligence, well known in tho 
city, and holding n high place in the University. How 
would it bo pOHsiblo to refuse his evidcnee except on 
vcrj' strong proof hoing given that ho waa really un- 
worthy to he heard ? 

" I am a, religious man," the Archdeacon answered, 
in cfl'ect ; " and I cannot accuse a fel low-sinner. - What 
I know of l'n>fessor Sachs has come to my cars through 
tlic cliauue) i>i confession ; confession not made to me, 
hut to others; what he has stated uguiust himsclt' is 
known to many ; hut it would not hecomo my calling, 
as a minister of the gospel, to say more. I know thu 
witness; and for the sake of others, I protest against 
such a mail being heard." 

Now, X'rofcBsor Sachs' evidence was to tho prosecu- 
tion all in all. Sachs was the chief accuser. Without 
him, little could have been alleged, and still less 
proved; nothing that could have brouglit the Arch- 
deacon within the cognizance of a criminal court. 
More might have been ilone against Itiostel ; who had 

ir.2 SriRITl-AL WIVES. 

never boon so carofiil in his wonls and condiiot as his 
eliiet'; but a vonlhit puniHliiiii^ the Si'ul -breaker, and 
allowing the Areluleacon and his people to return in 
triumph to their old places in the Altstadt church, 
would not have suitctl the liberal party, and would, 
therefore, have compelled Schon and the Professors to 
begin their work afresli. On all sides it was felt that 
this duel was a duel to the death. 

Sclion, as being, ox oiiioio, chairman of the court, 
would hardly need to hint that Sachs* evidence could 
not be refused on the ground of KheKs bad opinion 
of the Professor. Opinions go for nothing in a court 
of justice, which can only stop to consider attested 
facts. It was agreed that Sachs should be Iieard. 

The counsel for the defence now received from 
Diestel two written documents, which he laid before 
the judge. Tlicy were in Professor Sachs' hand- 
writing, and bore his signature. They were addressed 
to the late Countess von Kanitz (Minna von Derschau), 
and contained a very long and detailed statement of 
his many and grievous offences against Ood and man, 
some of wliich were absolutely incredible and revolt- 
ing. A man who had been guilty of such acts, said 
the defendants, was utterly unworthy to be heard in 
a court of law, in a matter affecting the honor of noble 
women and of gallant and pious men. The court 
communicated with Professor Sachs. What had he 
to say ? Were not these papers forged ? 

Mephistophiles had to rub his eyes and to bow his 
head. This man of science, so keen of intellect, so 
shrcivd of tongue, who mocked at religion, and held 
women in contempt, had to come forwaixl in a court 
of justice with the plea that, in a moment of moral 
and physical weakness, he had been made the victim 
t>f a young lady — Imld, inquisitorial, and of morbid 


fancy. While he was connected with the Ebclianv 
lie lijul been placed under the spiritual guidance of 
the Countess von Kanitz ; a lady of suhtio brain and 
overpowering will, who, in a moment of mortal weak- 
ness, had drawn from him the statements now before 
the court 

Were they true ? 

They were not true, said Sachs, in answer to the 

Hut they are given in writing, in the first person, 
and are signed? 

Yes ; that was so ; and yet the statements were not 
to he taken as his own. When he wrote them he was 
Wside himself with grief. lie did not know what he 
Huid and wrote. The lady pressed him to cleanse his 
hoMini of its secrets; she hinted at the disclosures she 
wdiild like to hear him make ; he had a strong desire 
to win her favor; and he had therefore made those 
confessions of imaginary crimes. 

Not only by word of mouth, in the heat of a personal 
interview, but coldly, in his own chamber, under his 
hand and seal ? 

Yes, even so ; the lady was imperious ; she would 
not take his oral statement ; she sent him home, to 
think the matter over, and to write it down ; he wrote 
what she wanted him to write. 

Poor Mephistophtlos ! 

What could the judge do under such circumstances? 
Without Sachs* evidence he had scarcely any ground 
to stand on ; and Sachs was now proved by his own 
confession to be worse than the defence had called 
him — not only spy, informer, and apostate, but a 
rogue, whose written word was branded by himself 
as a deliberate lie. The judge was much perplexed ; 
and the defence maintained, with a good deal of scorn, 

» ; 


t^at he ousrht to dismif&s the charge as havins^ wliollj 
fiuleil. Tliat would prohably Imve been tlic course 
imrsued hy a judge sitting in open court; but the In- 
ciuiront was in those days tbe real Public Prosecutor; 
and he did not like to see sucli a cause slip through 
liis fingers. When it became known that, in spite of 
pn>test, he had resolved to admit Sachs as a witness, 
subject to rejoinders from the other side, sliouts of 
remonstrance rose from the Mucker nobles against 
wliat they held to be unfair leaning of the bench, and 
undue influence from the Schloss. 

Saehs was heard. To rebut his evidence, the de- 
fendants put in a crowd of witnesses. First came 
Major Graf von Munchow, who testified that lie luid 
been closely connected in friendship with the Arch- 
deacon for eighteen years; ever since ho had returned 
from serving in the war of Liberation against the 
French; an<l in that long period of acquaintance he 
had learned to a]ipreciate in him a man of holy life, 
whose teaching had renewed and purified his moral 
nature. Next came Edward von Ilahnenfeld, who 
de]>osed that he had been a pupil of Kbel, and a friend 
of Graf von Kanitz for many years: and had always 
found the Archdeacon a man of high principle and 
blameless conduct. After him, came Baron Ernst von 
Ileyking, a soldier scarred with patriotic wounds, who 
Siiid that he loved Ebel and hated wickedness ; that 
when he was a young fellow in the camp, ho thought 
valor in the field the noblest distinction of a man ; but 
since he had been a follower of the Archdeacon, ho 
had come to see that it was better to bo good than 
even brave. Professor Friedlander, of the University 
of Dorpat, followed Ileyking, with testimony of the 
same kind, but given from the religious point of view. 
A dozen persons, of scarcely loss distinction, gave their 
e%'idence to the same effect. 


The Prcftiilcntof tbe Court wan only too glad to 
find tlie dcrendantu nrP'/ ^^^ 'cavo to remove their 
caiif^c from the local court to tho Kamiucr-Gcricht in 



milE year IftJJG was certainly a year of trouble for 
i the Eliclians; and the battles of the millennium, 
Uuiir jiredieted hy tho Archdeacon, seemed to have 
coiiinienced. Ebel preached in the Moravian chapel, 
and kept the inner circles of hig church together. 

Shut out from tho Altstadt church, of which, as 
doan, he had hcon the preacher for so many years. 
Archdeacon Khel looked about him for a fold in which 
ho could gather his homeless flock. Now, close to his 
church, in the Altsta<lt Long Street, there stands an 
ancient and solid chapel ; built, perhaps, by some prior 
ot* the Teutonic Knights, towards which the eye of a 
Htranger is drawn by an inscription, printoil on the 
front, in the pious old Gorman fashion : — 

^rthauif 1*0)1 ^ritdrr-omdtie. 

It was the Moravian Chapel, in which a people of 
f^iniplc virtue and exalted piety worshipped God. 
Between these good folks and Ebera aristocratic con- 
gregation, there had always been much kindness. 
The Brethren loved and i-espcctcd Ebel ; and it is 
certainly a strong point in favor of tho Archdeacon, 
that these harmless people should havo clung to him 
tirst and last VVbeu bis church was closed against 


him, they lent him their chapel for his services. It 
was an humble place, but the offer of it went to his 
heart In the upper room of tliis prayer-house; a 
plain oaken room, with a few forms, a reading-desk, 
lialf-a-dozen poor paintings, and a wooden gallery for 
the females ; Ebel, and his train of counts and count- 
eHses, met every Sunday, until their trials closed. 

The old oaken walls still whisper, as it were, of the 
presence of that high company in their hour of afflic- 
tion. Here, in this dingy corner, sat the Countess 
Ida, with her sister wives made one with herself in the 
Rpirit. Near them sat the Gratin von Kanitz, weeping 
inwardly at the apostasy of her brother, and the 
wrongs which his wickedness had heaped U{>on her 
Lord. There stood a band of high and heroic men ; 
soldiers of the Cross, and soldiers of the war of Libera- 
tion ; Kanitz, Miinchow, Ileyking ; a perfect gallery 
of noble and Quixotic figures. 

Brother Ennequist, a holy man, who led mo about 
the chapel, and whose sweet face reminded me of a 
Shaker friend, spoke of the Archdeacon and his 
people with profound respect. 

Whatever Professor Sachs may have said of Ebel, 
Brother Ennequist evidently regards him as a man of 

In 1837, they got their cause removed from the 
l(»eal court to the Kanimer-Uericht in the capital. 
They obUiined the services of Crelinger, one of the 
ablest advocates at the I'russian bar. Crelinger was 
a brother-in-law of Madame Crelinger, the German 
Siddons, and a friend of Fanny Lewald, who got from 
him many of those curious details aliout the Mucker 
which she has w^oven into her memoirs. 

Their suit was not prosperous in Berlin. The old 
King was too much of a practical soldier and politiciau 

I i 



4' : 




{ ' 






to care about revival and conRer\*ative movements in 
the Church. After a trial of two years' duration, the 
Criminal Court decreed (March 1839) that the Very 
lievcrend Wilhclm Kbel, and the Reverend Ilcinricb 
l>ieMtel, should be dcgra<lcd t'rom their sacred office; 
that they should lose their civil rights ; that they should 
be held incapable of serving their King in any capacity; 
and lastly, that Ebel should bo confined in a public 
institution until he came into a better mind. 

Five montlis elapsed before this stern, sentence was 
made known. Why was it kept back so long? Men 
who were not Ebelians whispered aloud that the 
venlict had been altered after it had left the judges. 

How could it be carried out? Ebel was to bo im- 
prisoned; but no place of conlinement was named in 
the decree, and no ona was appointed to sec the sen* 
tcnce carried out. The prisoner was to bo kept in 
custody until he was instructed and reformed ; who 
was to undertake this task of instructing these instruc- 
tors, of reforming these reformers? When 8chou 
received from Berlin a copy of the verdict, he sent for 
the oflicer who had charge of the public prisons, and 
asked him how such a sentence could be carried out. 
That officer read the paper with a doubtful shrug: — 

** Your Excellency will have to undertake this duty 
in person ; since there is no man in Konigsbcrg but 
yourself who could presume to give lessons to the 

f ' Archdeacon.*' 

Loudest in their clamors against the iniquity of this 

decision were Countess Ida and Graf von Xanitz. 

Ida clung to her Spiritual husband all the closer for 

the tempests which were bowling round his head. 

She had schooled herself to regard the Archdeacon as 

her all in all — her husband, her beloved, her Saviour, 

her Qod. She found her liberty iu serving him, her 

J>8 sriRITi'AL WIVKS. 

Hfe in being near liim. The ilcarcst wish of her heart 
M*H» to give her body and her «onl for him, that ho 
^ight be pparcd one pang of pain. Sachs, who conntcd 
licr devotion to Khel a kind of fennnine madness, said 
of her : *' If tlie Archdeacon had told her to kill a man, 
>9lie would have done it ; if he had bidden her lovo 
und marry a stranger, she would have wept and done 
it." She paid him, in her own person, a divine respect; 
und slie never quitted his side until the other day, 
when she laid him in the tomb. 

While Schon was wondering how lie could carry 
fDut the singular sentence of the Criminal Court, a 
f^udden change occurred in Berlin. Friedrich Wil- 
lielm III. was gathered to his sires, and his more 
ivligious and less despotic son suc(!ccdcd to the throne. 
A change of men took place. Altcnstein, dying, left 
the ministry of Public Instruction to Kichliorn, who 
^vas, like the new king, a Pietist, and perhaps a 

Under the new reign the friends of Kbel appealed 
from what they called the injustice of Schon to the 
justice of Friedrich Wilhelm IV. Then began that 
trial in the Supreme Court in Berlin, which served to 
carry through private channels of information the 
knowledge of Ebel's Iligh-Church theories into every 
ctM-ncr of Germany. The verdict ultimately pro- 
nounced by the royal court, though it left Khel with- 
out a pulpit, cleare<l his honor from the last stains 
which had been cast upon it ; so far, at least, as a ver- 
dict which was received with some suspicion could 
have any such eflcct on the public mind. 

If the first trial liad not ended in the old king's 
reign, it would probably have had another result. 
The higher Court undid everj'thing in the finding of 
the lower Court which could prudently be undouo. 


It removed the sentence of civil death, on tlie irroniitl 
that the two clcrpynien liad not been guilty of inten- 
tional hrcach of duty. It removed tlio sentence of 
imprisonment on the ground that they had not l>cen 
irwWty of founding a sect. So far, therefore, an criminal 
niatter was concerned, the venlict of the Court was in 
their favor. 

It ran against them only so far as it confirmed the 
suspension from clerical functions pronounced by the 
Konigshcrg Ecclesiastical Court. 

In fact, the high matters in dispute between von 
Sohiin and Ebcl were referred by this Court of ApjK»al 
to the still higher courts of Public Opinion and Uni- 
verwd History. 

King Fricdrich "Wilhelm IV. is known to have lived 
a rietist, and is said to have died a Mucker. If this 
tale be true, he was not the only royal convert drawn 
into the Mucker Church. Pauline, queen of Wiirtem- 
herg, is said to have become a disciple of the Konigs- 
herg seer. 

From the date of his a[ipeal, the Archdeacon lived 
in retirement with the Countess Ida, his most im* 
mediate Spiritual wife. They travelled from place to 
|»lace, from Ost Preussen to Silesia, from Saxony to 
Wiirtembcrg. Ida wrote a book in defence of her 
master, called Die Liebe zur Wahrheit, The Lovo of 
Truth, which was published in Stuttgart in the year 
1850. They took up their residence in the lovely 
town of Ludwigsburg, near Stuttgart; and there, in 
18G1, the Archdeacon died; but not until ho had scon 
the fruit of his labors and afflictions, in the growth of 
a Mucker society in many of the most enlightened 
and industrial towns of Germany— in Halle and 
Heidelberg, in Berlin and Hanover, in Dresden and 
Stuttgart, in Barmen and Elberfeld. lie is said to 


have onjoj'od a Rcrcne old ngc, and to have passed 
away as though he was simply going to sleep. 

Jjong before he passed away, the Mucker branch of 
our English Church had risen, fought its strange tight, 
and retired from public life into a Somersetshire 

Let us follow now these Englinh visionaries into 
their lovely retreat. 



"VrO stranger is admitted into the Agapemone," saya 
JLl Murray's Handbook. 

"The Abode of Love," said Lord Chelmsford, then 
Sir Frederick Thcsiger, speaking as counsel against 
our English Mucker, "is a family consisting of four 
apostate clergymen, an engineer, u medical man, an 
attorney, and two blood-hounds." 

" The Agapcmone," says Boyd Dawkins, the latest 
lay writer who has paid attention to this subject, "is 
surrounded on every side by a wall from twelve to 
fifteen feet high." 

Such is the fair sum of what is commonly known 
about that Abode of Love, which feebl}* represents in 
our colleges and churches the results of those large 
movements of revival ))assion which have made so 
much ado in German society and the Qerman courts, 
and have built for themselves, in the United States, 
such homes as Mount Lebanon, Salt Lake City, and 
Oneida Creek. Is it too much to say that these scraps 

THE Ai^on^ ^^ r.or^^ ,ci 

of iiifonnation, even if ^'»0' ^^'^""o tnie, would leave a 
roador ver}* niucli at lault. 

Tlioy arc not even true. 

JSt rangers wlio can show just cause for going into 
the Abode of Love, arc not sent away fi«oni it« gates. 
Uloodhounds are not kept in cither house or gsirdcn. 
Onco, indeed, sucli dogs were used for defence against 
cunning and carnal men (much as tlio dogs of Carniel 
arc lodged and fed by the Syrian monies), but only 
for a sliort time, just after an act of violence hud 
oreurrcd, for which the law could give them no 
redress. Some years ago those bloodhounds were 
Hont away. No wall from twelve to iiiltecn feet high 
Hurrounds the estate on every side. No such fence of 
Htone was ever built. In fact, the Abode of Love lies 
open to the eyes of men as much as either Over 
Stowy, Hals well Park, or any other domain in the 
county of Somerset. The only bit of high wall near 
the place is that which stands in front of the church, 
built to prevent the Spaxton clowns from staring 
through the west window from an adjoining field. 

The Saints who have been gathered into peace at 
Simxton have audacities and heresies ciiough to plead, 
without lying open to the charges made in these idle 

When, for the purpose of studies which are now iir 
the reader*s hands, I wrote to ask Brother Prince 
whether he was willing to receive me in the Abode 
of Love as a visitor, he caused me to be infonned, by 
the pen of Brother Thomas, that my visit would be 
welcome, that he should be glad to see me in person, 
and that he and his people would give mo such in* 
formation as I might wish to gain. The welcome, if 
not wann, was polite and frank. Brother Thomas 
hinted that the Abode was a private h(»use, not a 

14» L 



public institution. In reply, I liad to let him see that 
my viHitf if made at all, mudt be made on public 
grounds. On these free terms, I went down from 
London to the Abo<le of Love. 

As you roll from the quaint old streets of Bridg- 
water, by the eaves of Iiouses which must have been 
aged and poetic in the days when Blake was a little 
boy, into the green country lanes, you seem to be 
passing in a few moments from the age of Victoria 
into the age of Alfred. The road is bad, the mire is 
deep, and the descents are sharp. A strong stone 
farm peeps out here and there from the midst of oaks 
and tirs. The lanes are sunk below hedges of thorns 
and briers, so that an unfriendly force would find it 
no easy task to push their way from town to town. 
The streets just left behind seem to have been huddled 
for safety into a heap. No length of suburb melts the 
street into garden, the garden into cornfield. Two or 
three houses, thinking not little of their line fronts 
and open grounds, make a rash attempt to pass for a 
suburb; but the simplest eye could at once detect the 
imposture. No; ut the very gate of Bridgwater (a 
five-barred gate, with a crusty female guanl) you 
plunge at a cost of sixpence into the lleptarcliy. 
8axon Somerset was, I fancy, green and bright, with 
coni-sh eaves on these slopes; stone homesteads, snug 
with thatch, upon those knolls; with village tow*ers 
and spires among the trees; and with a slow but 
sturdy {copulation, like these Spaxton and Charlinch 
hinds, in all her deens and combes. Yon low dark 
line of Quantock hills, sombre with clumps of pine, 
and bright with breadths of pasture, cradled the sleepy 
and secluded hollow from the world. 

Pull up the horses on the brow of this hill. The 
scene is beautiful with all the beauty of our western 


land. Ill fn>iit springs a dome of cornfield, crowned 
with the pieturei»que nave and tower of Charlinch 
church. At the base of this hillock flows the soft 
wooded valley towards Over Stowy, a place renowned 
in the poetry of Wonlsworth and Coleridge. In the 
distance, near enough for every glade and park to 
8tand out freshly, run the Quantock hills. A spire, a 
hall, a castle, marks the site of some story famous in 
our early annals. But what^ in this valley at our feet, 
in the winding lane on our left^ is that fanciful and 
striking group of buildings; a church to which the 
8pire has not yet been built; a garden, c*ooled by 
shrubs and trees; a greenhouse thronged with plaints; 
an ample swanl of grass, cut through by winding 
walks; a row of picturesque cottages in the road, a 
second row in the garden ; high gates by the church ; 
a tangle of buildings in the front and rear; farms, 
granaries, stables, all of them crimson with creeping 
autumnal plants? That group of buildings is the 
Agapemone; the home of our male and female saints. 

In a few seconds we alight in front of the Abode of 

The large gates were closed, but the side^Ioor stood 
ajar. The man who drove me seemed to be surprised at 
iiuding this door ajar; he, too, had been told that no 
one is admitted into the Abode of Love. Once in his 
life he had got into the stables, being taken inside by 
a groom who was proud of his horses, as he might 
very well be, since they had come from the royal stud. 
My driver told me with a shudder, he had Iieard it 
siiid in the village ale-house, that the strange people 
in the Abode of Love played billiards on a Sunday in 
the church. For himself, he would not mind a game 
of nine-pins on a Sunday atlernoon ; but he saw a 
great difference between poor fellows playing ninor 


pins in the a1c-hou8C yard and gentlefolks hitting 
ivory balls in a church. 

As I entered by the open door, a gentleman in 
black, whom I knew must be the Rev. George Robin- 
son Thomas, once a student of St. David's College, 
next a deacon in the church, afterwards a curate at 
Charlinch, subsequently a witness for Brother Prince, 
now First of the Two Anointed Ones of these latter 
dayg, — came out from the house to see mo and shake 
hands. His form was fine, and his manner good — a 
tall figure, spare and well made, crowned by an intel- 
lectual head, with a clean face, and a pair of sharp 
blue eyes; a man who knew how to dress and to bear 
himself, in whom every line of a face no longer youth- 
ful, told vou that your host had been a scholar and a 
preacher: — such was the gentleman, otherwise known 
to me from report as the husband of Agnes Nottidge, 
the hero of an ale-house comedy, and the worsted 
party in a scandalous suit. Had I met this gentleman 
in St. James's Square, without hearing his name, it 
would have been ver)' hard to connect such a face and 
figure with a tale of fraud. Yet tliis dignified cleric, 
known to the lay world only as the husband of Agnes 
Nottidge, is accepted by the chosen few residing in 
the Abode of Love as First of the Two Anointed 
Ones, to whom has been given power to explain to 
men the mystery of the Seven Stars, to keep the Seven 
Golden Candlesticks, and to declare the Man whose 
name is the Branch. 

Thomas led mo into the chief room, which I saw at 
once was a church. Three ladies were seated near a 
piano, at which one of them was playing when we 
came in* My name was mentioned to them, by way 
of short introduction ; they simply curtsied and left 
tlie room, their own names not having been pro- 


iiounced in turn. One of these three loclies, as I 
afterwards found by a lucky gues*, had once been 
Julia Starky, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Sturky (a cler- 
gyman of standing in society and of high repute in 
the English Church), and was now the second wife of 
Brother Prince ; but she was not made known to me, 
eitlicr then or aflerwards, by her married name. 

After the usual remarks had been made about the 
tine morning and the pleasant drive, Thomas asked 
nic if I would go at once to Brother Prince's room. 
I K4iid I should tirst like to ask him four or five ques- 
tions. He bowed, and bent himself to answer; but 
he seemed to be ill at ease while we remained alone; 
und our talk was now and then broken by the entrance 
of some sister, who slipped into the room, listened for 
a moment, and then went her way. I began to see 
that it is not the Imbit of this place to allow any 
brother, any sister, even one of age and rank, to hold 
]irivate conversation with a guest Each Saint ap- 
pears to keep watch and ward upon his fellow. Prince 
nniy dwell apart, and hold himself accountable to none. 
But the rest of his people lie under bonds, and only 
act and speak in each other's presence. They move 
in pairs, and trines, and septetts. Thus, they havo 
the Two Anointed Ones who declare the Man whoso 
name is the Branch ; they have the Seven Angels who 
sound the Seven Trumpets ; with the like pluralities 
in person and in office. I was ver}* soon struck by 
the fact that in this community of Saints, I was never 
to be left alone with either man or woman, or, indeed, 
with any number of persons of a single sex; a thing 
beyond my experience in the homes of either German 
or American Saints. Go where I would, these perspus 
went about with me as guides and spies. The Two 
Anointed Ones acted as my hosts, but I never found 


myself alone with tliem for five nnnutes. If wo 
lounged into the lovely greenhouse, took a turn in the 
garden, idled ahout the stables and ofRceB, either 
Sister Ellen, Sister Annie, or some other lady, would 
slip in quietly to our side, and tiike her share in any 
talk that might he going on. At first I thought this 
eoming and staying of the sisters might he the result 
of female curiosity ; since Sister Ellen tohl me, on one 
occasion, that she had not spoken to a stranger, 
excepting only a few words to a man who was mend- 
ing a pane of glass in her room, for nine years ! But 
my first impression, I think, was wrong. The watch 
was not casual; the motive was not curiosity. On 
quitting the Abode of Love, I told the liev. Samuel 
Starky (second of the Anointed Ones) that I wns 
going up the hill to Charlinch, of which i»lace he had 
once been Rector, to see the church and glebe ; on 
which ho said he would go with me, if I would walk. 
This was what I wished ; on his old glebe, outside 
the Agapemone, I thought wo might have some freer 
talk al)out his early days than I could hope to enjoy 
under Prince's roof. But on hearing that such were 
my wishes, Thomas said ho would also go ; and when 
we were ready to start. Sister Annie came out in her 
high boots and with her skirts tucked up, prepared to 
defy the dirty lanes. In short, some sister kept me in 
sight and bearing until I drove away from the Abode 
of Ijove. 

To cut short my four or five questions, Thomas left 
the room. In a minute he returned to offer me food 
— a cup of coffee, a biscuit, a glass of wine. Being 
fresh from my early meal and cigar, I was declining 
his ofl:er with thanks, when something in his way of 
pressing his little courtesy upon mo struck me as like 
the manner of an Arab sheikh, who offers you bread 


ami Kiilt, not simiily w food but us a lipa of pcaoo. 
" Lot it W It plftM of wine." A womnii broiiglit in a 
tniv with ItiMuitM aikI two tleciiiitcrB; one full of » 
miod liry Hliorry, tlic other of n swoet new port; whieh 
Mhe liii'l down un n ttiUu, uiid bidding me licl)> myiielf, 
went out. For half iin hour I wus Ictl alotie with 
tliuHC two bottles ill the chnrvh. 

Vex; ill the church ; lounging on a red sofu, ncur 
a liri^lit tire, in tho colored light of liigh Innoct win- 
dowK, tilk'd with rich ntnincd glass; soil cushions be- 
iicuth my feet; n billiiinl-tublc on my right hand; 
I'hiirvh riirniture in uuk and brass about mc; and 
iiliove my hca<l the sacred symbol of tlio Lamb und 
Dtive, flunked und sujiportcd by a rack of billiurtl- 


Tliis room, I knew, wns that in which the Great 
MnnifoMtation had taken place; that mystic rite 
tiirmtfih which living tlcsh is said to liave been recon- 
ciled to God. Lovely to the eye, calming tn the heart, 
this chniubvr wus, and is. Tlio stained glass windows 
xliiit it in completely from the world, allowing nothing 
Icxs ethereal than the light of day to penetrate these 
walls. A ricli red Persian cari>ct covered tho floor, 
in contiiist with tlic dark-brown oaken roof. Ilod cur- 
liiiiiH draped tlie windows, the glass in which was 
iciinted witli u mystical device; a lamb, u lion, and a 
dove — the lion standing on a bed of dmcs, with a ban- 
ner on which these words are insvribcd: 

Oh, Hail, Holy Love! 

The ehimiiey-piecc was a fine oak frame of Gothic 
work, let in with mirrors. A liarjistood in one comer 
of the room ; a large euterpenn in another. A few books 
lay ou the tables, nut much used, — Young's Xight 


TThoughte, a Turner Gallery, Wordsworth's Greece, 
»nd two or three more. Low bookcases ran round the 
^alls, filled with religious volumes. Ivory balls lay 
on the green baize as if the Sisters had been recently 
at play. The whole room had in it a hush and splen- 
dor which aficcteil the imagination with a kind of awe. 
How could I help thinking, as I sat alone, of that 
mystic drama in which Brother Prince had played the 
part of hero, *^ Madonna" Paterson the part of hero- 

"Do you work and play on Sundays?" I inquired 
of the Firat Anointed One, when he came back. 

** We have no Sundays," he replied ; ** all days with 
us are Sabbaths, and everything we do is consecrated 
to the Lord." 

They like to play games, I hear, on Sunday as a 
protest against the bondage of the world. 

** Will you now come in to see Brother Prince ? " 
said Thomas. 

** Oh, yes," I answered softly ; and the keeper of 
the Seven Stars and the Seven Golden Candlesticks 
led the way. 




GOOD <Iay, oir; I mil (jlnd to see yoii ; take thin 
I'linir," mhmI a gcntleiiinn in bliick, with nwcct, 
<:riive fucc, u broail wliitt! ncckclotli, niul stiiiiing leather 
hIkics. ]Ic liail come to meet me at Uie door; he led 
iiic <|iiictly into a iieul, luxitrioiin jtiirlor, anil seated 
nu' ill nn easy-cliair l»osJile the fire. The mom was 
likuu lady'xbouiloir; the t'lirnitiirc was rich and good; 
the L'tiain* wcra coi>y ; and the oniiimentit were uf tlio 
iimial kind. I had conic to S|>axtoii from a coantry 
lioimo ; and nothing; in the room appcurctl to me mucli 
unlike what I had ictl heliind, except the nton and 
wonicn who ]>ci>iiled it with liTu. 

I'rinco 8at in a Hcniii-ircle of Iiih elect ; one brother 
mid two sixten) iiiltin); on cither side of him. On tlie 
win<;a of tins hnlf-circic eat the Two Anointed Ones; 
on the left wing, the Uev. Samuel Starky; on the 
ri;:lit wing, the Itev. Qeorge It. Thonian. Next to 
^=ta^ky were Sister Kllen and Sinter Zoo ; next tu 
T)iomati were Sister Annie and Sister Sarali. 

The Uev. Samnel Starky, eldest and whitest of my 
devcn hosta, a tall, stout man of sixty-one years, with 
uiild blue eyes, n little weak and wandering in expres- 
wion, recalled to me at once the familiar faces of my 
Shaker friends. Tiiis gentleman was the first great 
convert made by Prince,^ the firnt disciple who could 
liriiig to him the strength to be derived, in a courtly 
country such as ours, from money, education^ socio! 

Mlucatc<l at Trinity Collej^e, (Janihridgc, and at 

lie of li'iH convernion he held the living of Char- 

>vhei*c hi8 fatlicr, the old «h>etor of divinity, hsul 

UM reetor for many yeara. Jlis name wan well 

1 in thi'rte iSoniernet dale.'i and wootU, among the 

' of which the JStarky.s had alway8 held their 

very liigh. The manner of hin call had heen 

e, — a8 he thinkn, miracnlon8; ninee tlie L(»rd 

ot only 8aved Iii8 forfeit 8oul from hell, hut 

led back hi8 body from the jaws of death. While 

I him absent from bin parish, Hick, and as some 

lying, in the Isle of Wight, Prince had come to 

nch a8 his curate. '' I was near to death,*' said 

;cd miniHter, as we afterwards paced the garden- 

; ** the (h)ctor had given me up for lost ; and I 

[)ld one morning by my nurse that I could not 

ntil that night. At noon the post brought mc a 

from a clerical friend in Dath, with a printed 

' paper, which he prayed might be reaid to me, 

too late, before I <lied. It was a sennon. I 

the words not only full of grace, but full of 

They fell upon my soul like rain on a thirsty 

When the reading wsis done, I asked the 

lier*8 name; and only then bean] that ho was my 


ft»\v weeks after that call from a clying bed I wa^ 
Cliarliiich, in my curateV arms." From that h 
Siarkv has never left the master, at whose shlc he m 
HtanclH as Second of those Two Anointed Ones, 
whom is lod<jed the mystery of the Seven Stars, tl 
(toldon Candlesticks, and the Man whose name 
tlio Uranrh. 

Two of the fonr ladies who sat in this half-rin 
would have heen thought comely in any place; one ot 
tliem was very lovely, most of all so when her fac 
was in repose. The tirst, a lady whom I heard th 
IJrethren address as Sister Annie, was a very fine- 
model of female heauty in middle life; plump, rosy, 
ripe ; with a pair of laughing eyes, n full red check, 
and ripples of curling dark-brown hair. Some soft- 
ness of the place lay on her, as on all the rest: hush 
in her movement, waiting in her eyes, and silence on 
her lips. She was the only woman whom I saw at 
Spaxton who seemed to be in perfect health. 

The second lady, w*liom I afterwanls came to know 
as Sister Zoe, was one of those rare feminine creatures 
who lash poets into song, who drive artists to despair, 
and cause common mortals to risk their souls for love. 
You saw, in time, that the wonmn was young, and 
lithe, and dressed in the purest taste ; but you could 
not see all this at once ; for when you came, by a cjuick 
turn of the jiassagc, into her presence, you saw nothing 
about her save only the whiteness of her brow, the 
marble-like composure of her face, the wondrous light 
of her big blue eyes. She sat there, nestling by the 
side of Prince; in a robe of wliite stuft', with violet 
tags nnd drops; the tiny streaks of color throwing out 
into relief, as it were, the creamy paleness of her 
cheek. But for the beaming light in her eye, Guercino 
might have painted such a girl for one of his rapt and 


vnouming nngelfl. A high hrow, nn oval face, a small 
^iionth aiul chin, a brown head of hair, |)carl-like 
^cctb, and those lustrous or1>s ! In fact, I do not know 
"tliat I have ever seen a face more full of high, serene, 
Wknd happy thought ; and yet, while gazing on her folde<l 
liands and saintly brows, some instinct in my bloo<I 
^'omi>elled me, much againnt my will, to think of her 
ill connection with that scene which had taken place 
in the adjoining church ; that daring rite, the strangest 
^lystery, perhaps the darkest iniquity of these latter 
^lays : through which Prince asserts, and Thomas testi- 
fies, that Qod has reconciled living flesh unto Himself, 
WkUi\ introduced His final dispensation on the earth. 

Of the other two ladies I shall say no more than 
that Sister Sarah is young and tall, and that Sister 
Sllen is about fifly-five years old. 

By what names tliese ladies had been known in the 
ivorld I could not learn, except in one case, that of 
Sister Ellen, whoso name of Perry I hit upoiv by chance. 
They make a secret of tlieir family histories. " We 
have no business with the world, nor has the world 
anything more to do with us," said Starky. Once, 
when Sister Zoo was lifting up )ier voice to aihlress 
me, as all the Sisters had done in turn, I asked by 
what name I should speak to her. '' Zoe," she replied. 
Now, it chanced, some time ago, that I hud learned 
from another source the family name of the young 
lady who had been made the heroine of that mysteri- 
ous rite in the Abode of Love, through which living 
flesh is said to have been reconciled and saved. That 
family name was Paterson ; and I should have liked 
to bear whether Sister Zoe and ** Madonna " Paterson 
were one. 

*^ But think/* I urged ; ** I am a layman and a stran* 
ger ; liow can I use these sweet, familiar names ? *' 

1l7r///A' r/M' AltODK. ITS 

" I'ray do m," unawcrwl Zim- ; " it \# very iiire." 

■■Nil iliiiilit. if I wen' \wTv A iiiDiitli ; iiiciuitiiii« it 
woiilil 1m! cjwiiT tor iiic to (.■nil y«n Miss " 

"Call IIIC Zoo," hIiu iiiiHWCtvd witli u patient tiniilc: 
"Zno ; iiotliiii^ Imt Zuc." 

Looking tiwnnls I'riiH-e, I wiid, "Do your people 
l;ikc new iinnioa oil <:oiiiing iiiUi ix-Hiilencc, liku tlic 
iiinnks uikI iitiiis of an Itulian eonvciit?" 

"Not like nionksaiiil minis" miiil I'rineo; "wo do 
lint }>ut onmcIvGH under the protection of our sainto. 
We Imve iio naintrt. We siinply givo oiipwlves to 
(■•<d, of whom tliix nmiiHioii in tlic seat. At yonder 
•.Mies we leave tlic world lieliind; its wordti, its luwa, 
iirt jiiiHr'iiMiH ; ull of wliieli we hold to be thtiigs of 
tlio ilevil'ii kingdom. Living in the Lord, wc follow 
Jlii loiidiiig light, even in the siniple matter of our 
iiiiinoi). You will hear them all in Uinc. They call 
itie Itehived. I cull this ludy Zoc, because the sound 
[•li'iL-iCH inc. I call Thomttfl there, Mossoo, because bo 
r^peiiki) French so well." 

I never got witli tlie Saints beyond this point, 
^Vllou I wns bidding them good-bye, I said to Znc, 
holding lier hand in mine, "May I not hear somo 
wonl to know yon by when I am far away?" 

"Yea; Zoe," she said and sniilctl. 

*'Z»c . . . what else?" Ilcr tliin Ii[t8 parted, as 
if to e]jeiik. What was she about to say T Wos tbe 
iiiuno that rose to her llpa I'alcrson ... a word 
unspoken for years in tlio Abode of Love? Wlio 
knows ^ Instead of answering me, though her fingers 
^vcro linked in mine, slie turned to Prince, and 
whispered in her melting tones, ''Beloved !" I'riiico 
answered to me for her, in a voice of playful softnoaa; 
"Hlie is Zoe; you must think of her as Zoe; nothiug 




THE gentleman, who is called by his followers Be- 
loved, in the sensuous idiom of the Song of Songs 
— is fifty-six years old, spare in person, of middle 
height, with a pallid cheek, and the traces of much 
pain and weariness on his wan cheek. His face is 
very sweet, his manner very smooth. He has about 
him 84)mething of a woman's grace and charm. His 
smile is very soft; and the key of his voice is low. 
He has the look of one who had never yet been vexed 
into rage and strife. In his eyes, which are apt to 
close, you see, as it were, a light from some other 
sphere. He sat in the centre of this group of men 
and women, rapt in his own dreams, into which ho 
fell the moment we sat down before his warm and 
cheery fire. AVhen the sound of voices roused him, 
he crossed his hands upon his black frock, put his 
shiny shoes on the rug, and bore a luxurious part in 
my first long and singular conversation with the 

lu the Abode of Love, I had to hear again a 
i;ood many things the like of which I had heard be- 
fore. Elder Frederick on Mount Lebanon, Brigham 
Young in Salt Lake City, Father Noyes at Oneida 
Creek, had each received me in much the same way 
as Brother Prince received me at Spaxton. In every 
case I found a clue to these zealots' hearts through 
•venues opened to me by previous travels in the Holy 
liEiid. Every one has some question to ask about 

ItELOVFJ}. ,„ 

Ihc tJrotIo in ncllilclicm, the Kotnitnin of Xnsnretli, 
tl.o (iunleii of Oetliwmniic, tlic Tomb on CmIviiq-; 
mill I Imvc lihviijr* tomul tlmt iVom tliofte Mulgcctii to 
Ilio ftrciit qiicrttiou of tlic Second Coming of our I^rJ 
— tt iirofoniid conviction of wliich event lies aX tlio 
r.H»t of nil tlicao sociui niiil rcliyioua croods — is but a 
*\v\\ rrince tiilkcd ft good deal; but lie waa ruthor 
full tliun frank in bis diHCOursc. IIo muXc ninny 
1>i)110Cd; 8toi>iting to explain bis wonls, nuHaying wbat 
he i>cenicil to Iiuvc »nid; and on some points making 
(i]H<iily large rescn-ca. 

On general <|ncstionH be wue fmnk enongb. " You 
liiilcl," I nMkeil him, "that the day of gmce is postT" 

" Wc know," he answered, "that the day of grace 
in \vAfX ; that Christ bos IctY the morcy>8cat; and that 
llic day of judgment is at hand." 

" Vou expect the world to pass away?" 

"The old world is no more. God has witlidmwn 
from it His own." 

" I>o you, then, hold that all mankind beyond these 
wikllri — the millions after millions of men and women, 

"It is God's will; not ours. Una it not always 
boeii HO? How many men were sheltered in the ark? 
Waa any man called save Abnihnm mid hia seed? 
lion* many men did Jesus draw aside unto Ilimaolf!" 

"ilow many are you iu the Abodot" I asked of 

"About sixty soula in all." 

At this moment a mnn-serv&nt, dressed in sober 
black, came into the room. " You count the domes- 
tics in that number?" 

"Yea," said Thomas; "they are all members of 
our family and share its hlossinga." 

**I>o you take the ser%-ico needed iu the lionao, each 

17C SrililTrAL WIVES. 

in turn, like tho Brethren and SistorB of Mount 
Lebanon?" I miw a faint 8milo ripple on the ser- 
vant's face. 

**0h, no," broke in upon us Sister Jlllen ; **wedo 
nothin*; of that kind; our people servo us; but they 
do it all in love.*' 

"Do you mean," I said, *' that they serve you with- 
out being paid their wages?" No reply was given to 
tny question, except a laugh from tho lady and a grin 
from the domestic. 

** Among these sixty inmates, how many are male 
and female ? How many are young, how many grown 

"The sexes are nearly equal," answered Thomas; 
"there are no children." 

"Xono at all?" I asked, thinking of tho Great 
Manifestation, and what was said to have come of it. 

"You do not understand the life we live here in 
tho Lord. We neither nuirry nor give in marriage. 
Those who married in the world aforetime, live as 
though they had not. Men house apart fi*om women, 
and know no craving after devil's love ; but are as 
the angels in heaven, in whom is eternal life." 

"What do you wisli mo to understand as devil's 
love ? " 

"All love that is of the flesh — all love that is not 
holy, spiritual, and of God." 

"Did I not see a child, a little girl, playing about 
on the sward just now ? " 

"She is the broken link in our lino of life ; a child 
of shame ; a living witness of tho last great triumph 
of the devil in the heart of man." 

"You speak of Miss Paterson's child?" 

"She is Satan's offspring — Satan's doing in tho 
flesh,'* said ThomaSy with deep emotion. A look of 

■mjriimh t-loii<Ic<l all tlicir ft"^". except the f«co of 
SirtiT Z.»o, who kejit the nwcct Bcroiiitj- of Iicr t-o«ii- 
t.-iiiiiioo qiiito Himiovcd. "The work of that liiiio," 
i.iit ill Sifter KlU'ti, u-itli n Mj;h, "wag tho Kuhlcst 
tliiiij; I have ever known. For one whole ymir wo 
liiv ill tlic flliailow of ili-ath, niiil near to hell ; hnt God 
MTtHijiht out ITw i>nriM>ne in iii*. It wn« a bitter time 
r.>r »)I ; hilt iiioHt lor our Itelovuil." 

"Vunr rule of hie, then, i^ like that uf iiun» and 
nioiikit — a rule of aheitiiieiice?" 

"The rule of aiigcln," aii«wcre<l Prince; *'a rule 
of pure enjoyment in tho Lonl. Our hrethrcn and 
BiHioni live in love, hut not in sin ; for sin is death, 
iiixl oiiffl ifl a life eternal in the Lord." 

"l>o you mcun in the npirit, in another world, u 
ull jioiyd men hope to live?" 

" We mean alike in the liody and in tho spirit ; for 
flonh is now saved and reconciled to God." 

" Tlicn you acecpt the pliyiiieal rcaurroetiou ta tho 
iloi-trine ia laid down in the Kiiglitih Gliurch I " 

"Xo; we reject that doctrine. Wo ore tho resurrec- 
tion ; and in that wo are the life." 

"Yet all men die?" 

" Yea," said ThoinuB ; *' they have mostly done so ; 
death has been men's portion, and they have died; 
liiit death i» subject to tho Lord in whom we live. 
We tihall not die, unless it be His purpose not to save 


"You expect to die?" 

"Xu, never," said the First Anointed One; **we 
have no such thought" 

"But some among you have pOBsed away; Louisa 
Xottidge, for example?" 

"Yes, the Lord hoa dono Ilia will upon them; tlicy 
have erred, and they are gone ; but many examples do 


not ninkc a nccossary rule. KlijahV kindred died in 
the fles»li, yet tlio proidiet was cnu^y^lit iip into the 
lieaveii8 a )ivin<j: man. Thou*.')i I should 8ee that 
valley choking witli ten thousand coqises, the sight 
would not convince mc tliat I should one day have to 

"You soom to think hut li^htlv of the dead? " 

**We think <»f them as men who have not heen 
wliolly saved ; who have not been snatched fmm the 
lK)wer of Satan in tlic flesh. Those wliom God h<a4 
saved will live." 

** Where do you bury the departed out of sight — 
in a churchyard, in consecrated ground, like other 
Christians, or in some lonely field, as the Shakers 

*'Somo lie at the farm, some rest under tliis green 
lawn ; wo have no consecrated ground ; for wo think 
the clay that is not saved alive, goes back into the 
earth from which it sprang." 

"Seeing that you all grow older, and that some of 
you drop away, you must admit that death may come?" 

"Not so," said Beloved, ** wc never think of death; 
we never expect it. We know that Go<l is a living 
God, and that we are alive in llim. Death is a word 
that belongs to time." 

"But we all live in time." 

"You live in time," said Beloved ; "wo do not; and 
wc know nothing of it." 

" Ilavo you no sense of time ? " 

"None," replied the First Anointed One. "These 
terms are yours, not God's; you have invented them 
to represent earthly facts. Wo stand in anotlier place." 

**You see the sun rise and wane," I urged; "you 
know that yestenlay was Friday, that to-morrow will 
he Sunday; that spring-time passes and the haiTCst 
collies about?" 

LAMrKTEimiifT/t/iKX. 170 

" \\\'U, JOB," cuiil BoUrtc^l, iiiai.Ujitijr tone; "wo 
tVrl rhtf tU'W ot' lovo wIiuOi j'liu luivw takori ao your 
iiKMi'iirv (if time: but it U iii> nipi ot* uliiiii|re to uo, 
vvli.> <l«i-ll for ever in the liviiij; Ooil." 

Tu i>cf iiow men of jroiitlu I'irth, of collcjp.' tniiiiiiig, 
nf nrmifUTiiil ollice, living in tlic inoitt vontwn-ntivo 
,..«-i,-ty anil clinrcli in Kun)i'c, Imve Ikscii liroiijtlit tu 
;i<tniit tliuac (lui-lriucH anil ti> liruatliu tlicBO paiwiuiKi, 
tvo mnit Hit buvk u littlu v-uy, nn<l tell tho »tt>ry uf live:*- 

Muinij- fntm tlioirown rciM)rta, jiurtly uUn from tlio 
ri'|<»ri:< of fi-iciida and cnoniicit, llio inutcrmls for iho 
tullywiiij; nkctclics biivo liccn Uniwn. 



SOMK thirty yearn ngn, a gronp of young men of 
(lart-n, wlio liad Ifcoii tlirown tn^etlivr us stiiilento 
"f iliviiiity, in tlio colU-jtc of St. I>itvi<rM, Lnm|K!tur, in 
(':iriti<;aiisliire, liail formed tlieniHelveit into ii jiniyin^ 
iirnl ri;vival onlur, unilor tlio iiaino of the Lampvlur 
Ifri-lhrt^n. St. Uavid's wan n new co]lo<;v, founded by 
Ki^Iioii iiurgesH, a few years cnrlicr, for tlic tmining 
of young men ou easier terms thnu Oxford and Cain- 
liriilgo ollered, nn niinititerfl in tlnj ?]nglisli Cliureli; 
niiiinly witli a view to «up]dyinjt u belter dam of 
|>reiieliura to tliat bnnieh of tlie Cluireh whieli diiily 
liiids itxulf faee to ftiec with tho H|iirit of dissent ami 
"il'aratioh in the soHtherii counties of Wnlea. U(> to 
that time, it bud met with hut u fuir rcturu of fruit 


Fine nccncry, a good lioiise, and clicap living (near a 
capital trout Rtreani), had done sonietliing for the prim 
little town. Students had come in ; a few pastors, 
fnoAtly Welnh ones, had hecn sent out; but the spirit 
of the place had continued coUI. The young men hsid 
thought more of catching fish than of saving souIh. 
The Ares of Oriel had hardly kindled in them the 
revival flame. 

The Kev. Alfred Ollivant, vice-principal, was a man 
of the world, a high wrangler, a senior medallist, of 
much distinction in his crafl, well trained in the 
subtleties of verbal fence ; yet one, it was thought by 
some, who was less concerned for the souls of perish- 
ing sinners than for his own advancement in the 
Church. A sound scholar, a fine preacher, a keen 
critic, knowing his own work and worth, he was said 
by his more zealous pupils to be keeping a sharp eye 
on all such chances as might fall in his way of a 
rector's living or a professor's chair. lie was so far 
an innige of clay as to enjoy a rush aicross country, and 
to know the difference between jiort wine and claret; 
nay, he had been known, when his heart was glad, to 
listen with pleasure to an ancient ballad. For all 
these weaknesses, not to style them vices, the young 
revival students held him in contempt: as a wolf in 
sheep's clothing, as a creature on whom the devil had 
8et his mark. 

I must add, that in after-years they came to see 
more clearly, and to speak more justly of this eminent 
divine. *^ Ollivant was a good man,'* Thomas said to 
me, during one of our conversations, at the Abode of 
Love. *• We judged him sternly in our youth, but we 
think that since that time he has been good and wise, 
according to the measure of his light.'* 

The means which these Lampeter Brethren pro- 

jioi*o(l to URC, ill order to promote a glorious work '^ 
tlie co!le«xo tt»<l "» the town, wa« pniyer. All triiC 
religion, they tohl each other, bej^iiiM aiul eiulu with 
|)niyer. Prayer is the natural jiathos of the 8oul 
Prayer is the only path hy which man nuiy <lraw near 
to God. Wlien a child of grace departs from hi* 
father's presence, it is because he has either ceased to 
l»ray, or forgotten how to pray aright. God cannot 
Iielp hut hear and answer prayer; an<l those happy 
8011U wlio have managed to take heaven hy violence 
liave always captured it in prayer. To pniy, there- 
fore, is the first duty, and the highest profit of those 
who seek to do the will of God on earth. The young 
Lampeter Brethren desired to he known among Wth 
their Knglish friends and their Welsh neighbors as the 
Traying Brotherhood. They met to pray; and tliey 
sent out a call to such as might feel with them, to 
come aud pray. 

Prnyor was their bu^iticM; aU their pleasure praive. 

Like many of their brother mystics in every age of 
the Church, they adopted the Song of Solomon as 
their favorite book; reading it in the spiritual sense 
HO often assigned to it by commentatoi*s; as a picture, 
drawn by a cunning hand, of that perfect passion 
which, in the fulness of time, was to inflame tho 
regenerate soul towards Christ, so that the Lonl and 
His Church might burn and fuse into one. Ilenco 
they never tired of murmuring, '^Let him kiss mo 
with the kisses of his mouth;*' of crying in their r.eal 
for him, "Thy love is better than wine." In their 
dreams they heard a voice saying to them, ** Kisc up, 
my love, my fair one, and come away;" and listening, 
as it were, in sleep, they heard a voice in tlie street 
cry out to them, ** Open to me, my sister, my love, my 


^<>vc, my uiulofilcMl, for my hca<l is filled with dew, 
^ud my IcK-krt with tlic drojm of the ni<rhi." All the 
>varm wunUof this iSong were on their lips, aiiil all its 
(IcIiciouH imagerieH lay about their hearts. 

At first they had been few in number — half-a-dozen, 
perhapa half-a-8Core; but, as they had left the gates 
of nierey open to the worhl, a few others had entered 
in. A dozen persons, perhaps, in all, threw in their 
lot with these revival youths; most of them students 
in the college, with two or three poor outsiders from 
the town. They luul met in each other's roomsi 
where they prayed, and sang, and searehed each 
other's hearts. t'Kiss me with the kisses of thy 
mouth," they cried, . . . "thy love is better than 
wine, . . . thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my 
s}K)use. . . . How fair and pleasant art thou, love, 
for delights!" No one can say that in the midst of 
these soft and mystic yearnings they had spared each 
other*8 faults. With a keen and cruel zest they had 
bared all sores, and probed all wounds, groaning the 
while in spirit, and shedding tears of brine over what 
they beheld around them of a perishing world. In 
truth, their lines had been cast into a pleasant rather 
than into a holy place. Cradled in green woods, and 
lapped by shining waters, Lampeter lay in a valley 
rich in all natural beauties, but she was very far indeed 
from being clothed in piety and grace. The rough 
Welsh mining mob, who knew no idiom save their 
own, had been used to spend their Sundays and holi- 
days in drinking, fighting, and blaspheming; the 
mining gentry were hardly better than the peasants 
and quarrj'men ; and even in the town itself, under 
the college walls, these hardy critics could lind more 
offences than those which, in the Cities of the Plain, 
bad plucked down tire from heaven. IIow could this 


jK'risliini; world be Bavoil? \\\ the college? No! 
rriod tlioj^o yonthn in tlu'ir lioly y.oal. This s:uto«1 
siliool waa no whit bettor than the wicked quarry and 
«lo<'(»rou8 town. Their chief was known to he h)okin<;r 
out lor phicc ; tlic rank and file of 8tndent8 were given 
to cHnihing hiiU and wliipping BtreamB, to quoting 
]h»race and drinking beer. Ah the Kirnt among tliene 
liivtliren said in his wrUIi, a Htninger at Su Duxhrs 
might liave gathered tVoni their tftudien and demeanor^ 
that tlie whole connnunity waa being prepared, not for 
Horvice in the pulpit, but tor strutting on tlte stage. 

From these dead and dying worlds of sin, the 
lirethren ha<I dmwn theniHelvcs apart, to watch and 
l^ray; so that, wlien the day of wrath should come, 
they might he ready to fiee out of the city and escape 
the consuming fire. 

Among these young men were Henry James Prince, 
Arthur Augustus Kecs, Lewis l*rice, George Robinson 
Tliomas, John Lewis, Tlionms Williams, Thomas 
Kvans, and David Thomas. 

Their founder and leader was the first in this list, 
Henry James Prince. 

l*rince was a few years older than most of his friends 
— three or four years, perhaps, on the average — for 
divinity Iiad not been his firat attempt in life. Ho 
had come to St. David's College to begin bis course at 
an age when he ought to have been a settle<l man; for 
when he entered his name on the roll of pupils, ho 
had already passed into bis twenty-sixth year. 




PUIXCE was horn at Batli, in the year of wonder 
1811, the season of the great comet — a thing 
which hirt a<lmirer8 do not seem to have noted, since 
they wonhl hardly have failed to dmw strange morals 
from such a fact. As a hoy, he lived with his mother 
and sister, gentlefolks who liad once seen hetter days, 
and wlio then let lodgings in that city of dowagers, 
invalids, and preachers. They live<l in Wi<lcomhc 
Crescent, Numher five; their chief, if not only tenant, 
being Martha Freeman, a maiden lady of very uncer- 
tain age. Martha had money. The daughter of a 
West Indian planter, she had come from ahroad to 
reside in Bath, on account of her feehlo health and 
declining years, and had taken up her abode in the 
house of Airs. Prince, a widow with a brood of hoys 
and girls about her. Martha was a pious woman ; a 
lioman Catholic by birth. 

Prince was an ailing child, with aver}' bad stomach, 
and digestive organs always out of play. Like many 
other ailing children, he was very mucli open to re- 
ligious comfort; delighting in going to church, in 
reading the Uihle, and in saying his prayers. As he 
now sees and says, he was perfect in the Gospel, even 
as a child, and before the work of grace had begun in 
his soul. In these pious exercises lie was ver)' much 
urged and helpe<l by the elderly maiden lady who had 
come to lodge in his mother's house. ** You will not 

nnoTiiEK PRixcK, m 

wonder at Iiih lovo for Martlia/' Bai<l Hrotlicr Thoni.i8 
to ino, ''wliou I toll you tliat lio o\vo<l his convoiVioii 
to |ii«r — that she was the nieauH of bringing him to 


The willow Prince had three sona, William, Oeorgo, 
and llonry, with three or four dau*chtcr8. One of her 
hoiiii had gone into the Churcli, and 8ho had hoped to 
st'o her youngest son, Ilonry, become a country doctor, 
a profession for wliicli there is ample room in Bath. 
To this end he Inid been phiced, at sixteen years of 
ngo, in the shop of an apothecary in Wells, where lie 
had stayed, with intervals caused by sickness, for 
nearly seven years. More than once his hold on life 
was given up ; once, at least, the Sacrament was ad- 
n»inistere<l to him, in the presenco of Martha Free- 
num, in his mother's room. When he went np to 
London, in the hope of being coaxed through hid 
examination, he lodged in the Borougli, walked the 
wards of Guy's Hospital, and kept his terms in WelU 
iStreet school. A friend of mine, Dr. Noble, who wan 
his fellow-student, speaks of his way of life at that 
time in tei*ms of highest praise. As a young man ho 
lived in Lomlon like a saint. It is little to say that 
lie neither drank, nor swore, nor gambled, nor ran 
wild in love. These are coai*se words, and mean 
coarse things, quite foreign to his nat^ire. lie lived, 
so far as a keen observer saw, a life which was pure 
in thought as well as clean in fact Vice offended 
him, not only in his feeling but in his taste. 

In 1832, he passed Apothecary's Hall ; took out his 
license to kill and cure ; and got the appointment of 
medical officer to the General Hospital in Bath. Frail 
as any of his patients, Prince yet strove, with a young 
man's zest, to gain a place in the medical world. For 
nearly three years he held his course ; then ho had to 


ride up to town for counsel with doctors on a malady 
of his own ; when he found that he had thrown away 
those years in fighting against his fate. In London, 
a terrible sickness fell upon liim, and a painful opera- 
tion had to be performed. " I nearly bled to death," 
lie says; ** for a week I lay without moving, and it was 
five weeks before I could leave my room." During 
tlicse waking niglits and days, ho made up his mind 
that he would strive no more, whether good or evil 
came of it ; that he would no longer give his days to 
learning the surgeon's art. In the voice of Martha he 
lieard a call to a liigher work. He now took up hi^ 
cniHs, and bent his spirit to the task of converting and 
saving souls ; being at that time perfectly unaware that 
his own soul needed to be saved. 

A cliangc of scene, a sea-voyage, a tour to the north, 
were recommended by his doctor, who thought that 
Bath was too warm and damp for him, and that the 
sharper air of a northern country would do him good. 
His brother lived near Durham, at the village of Shin- 
cliffc, near tlie cathedral city, where he held a living; 
and to him, by a round of sea-trips, Prince was sent; 
the course of his travels lying through Guernsey, Lon- 
don, Edinburgh, and Durham ; in the last of which 
places lie found his brother's neighbors in what ap- 
peared to him a VQvy bad way. 

The rough ladsof the north astounded thisgood young 
man from Bath. They drank deep, they swore loud, 
they fought hard. Tlie grown men loved their puppies 
and beat their wives. Few of these rude fellows put 
their heads into a church ; their Sunday mornings 
being chiefly spent in fighting out quarrels of the 
previous week. Nor were the masters better than the 
men, except that their amusements were supposed by 
Bome to bo of a less brutal kind. As Prince walked 


to clnirch, lie honnl tlio lniiiter*8 en* come acro^a tlio 
fioMs. TIjo eliuivli, an <>1<1 barn, \va8 only a quarter 
full. Surely, lie said to liinwolf, here were a pasture 
and a field demanding an inntant Bliopherd ; tlienc and 
many otliern like them in the north. Prinec >va8 told 
that these jteople hated par^onn; he saw they did so, 
ev(Mi though he 8tood in night of the eathedral towers 
and theological sehools of Durham ; and ho only 
grieved that he could not 8ay, in hii4 heart, that these 
ru<Ie people hated their pastors on aeeount of their 
righteousness. lie eon Id not say so. 

Next day he trudged into Durliam ; sought an inter- 
view with the eollege warden ; learned the time and 
terms of stu<lentship; resolved on the spot that ho 
wouhl seek a door into the ehureh, and give ud his 
life to the task of saving souls from hell. 

On going back to Batli he only changed this plan so 
far as to accept St. David's College, Lampeter, as a 
nearer and a cheaper place of study than Durham. 

Martha Freeman was warm for Lampeter, w*hich is 
far less distant from Bath than the northern university, 
and Martha's wish was a growing i>ower in Wideombo 
Crescent. By this time the young Anglican had 
fallen into love with his elderly Catholic teacher, and 
the venerable spinster had fallen into love with her 
sickly charge. In truth, the action of this youth on 
the old maid, of this old maid on the young man, had 
been strange and strong. She had made him a Chris- 
tian ; ho had made her an Anglican. While she had 
been drawing him into grace, he had been sapping in 
her the foundations of her early faith. Each had con- 
verted the other. To complete the string of contradic- 
ticuis, ho had begun, while still regarding her as bis 
spiritual mother, to look on lier as a future wife. Sbo 
was old enough to have been his mother in tho flesh. 


** You must not tbiiik of Brother Prince," 8iii<l Sister 
Ellen to me, "as courting and marrying in tlic usual 
way; both his wives have been oliler than himself: 
Martha was an oUl woman when he took her." In 
fact, he seems never to have thought of Martha as 
anotlier man would have been sure to think of a lady 
whom ho proposed to make his wife. He dreamt of 
her only as a bride of tlie Spirit, as that sister and 
6i)ouse about whom lie ha<I read so much. 

When Martha and his other friends proposed that 
he should join the clanses in Lampeter, in place of 
going to Durham, he paused in doubt. The rough 
lads in the north had.been the means of forcing him 
into taking that instant step towards the Church. How 
could he run away from the scene of his call ? He 
opened liis favorite Canticles, the first cliapter of which 
he read through once more with a beating heart, 
repeating to himself, as lie sat in his room, gazing on 
the feeble charms of the woman who was at one and 
the same time his spiritual mother and his spiritual 
daughter, " Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, 
thou art fair!" Then he got on the coach, and was 
driven from Bath into the loveliest scenery to be found 
in the south of Wales. 

When he had first come to Lampeter, he seems to 
have been considered, both by hi& masters and by his 
follows, as a shining light. His life was pure, his 
spirit eager, his aspect grave, his apprehension quick. 
Those who were rich in gifts of the Spirit had been 
drawn to him, as to a magnetic centre. Arthur Augus- 
tus Kees, who in after-life became his fiercest adversary, 
admits not only that the new-comer was the gloiy of 
St Duvid*8 as to piety and learning, but that if ever 
man lived on earth like a saint, Prince was that man. 
Though feeble in body, ho fasted much, and prayed 

still won: lit! took no <Itfli;;Iit in tlic tl.nnga of young 
iiK^ti, — ill fiMliiiiK' wwlking-l'iirtipis f*"'' count rj-jatint*, 
— Imt gavo n\t hw nights to BtuOy, and niicnt liis days 
ill vi»)tiiig tlic {xior and tlio nick. Jlccs had 1)ccu a 
snilor; Itnt he liad given lip tho quartcMcck for Iho 
(■iiljnt ; ami licinji of nearly rrincc'a own age, lie noon 
lu't'itniu liiit cloKoitt nnci <loai'ei>t friond. Ono day 
Triiu'e in-ojioxc-d to ^tf^'t^ tliiit they hIiouIiI lueot lor 
|ir;i\'iT; a ]>ro[>(»>al which ted to llie )i>Hlitu(h>n known 
a* tlic Lanipotcr 13ri.-thrcn, t>invc other men, infiiireil 
liy the Holy <iho)tt, onnie into fellowship with them, 
t'ugcr to lahor with tlicin for the good of Koulit, Tlio 
stiidenti), generally, ridiculed Jii-Ht, and then reHcnted, 
the t'liniidation of this separate hrotherhood ; not with- 
out hIiow of retiKon, perhaps; Hinee thcoo brethren 
iniide it one of their foniial rules that tliey shoultl 
pniy for themselves, and for the eolltge. Some among 
l)ie students went so far an to ony tlioy did not want 
tliene prayers, and noorly all of them rcgnnlcd these 
meetings as implying on the part of Prince ami hiii 
trivnils a superior tianctity, and a higher aeeeptanec of 
tlie Lord. In fact, there eould be no moro dispute 
iiliniit i'rince's spiritual ]mdc than aI>out hia manner, 
liiH iieliolnrHliip, and his morality. On one auspicious 
ihiy he wont to n christening; wine was parsing freely 
nmnd, and sonic zealous friend proposed tliat the 
t'ouipnny sliould join in drinking the hahy's health, 
rrince, who objected to the toast as savoring of pride 
ill the tlesh, made u counter-proposal that they should 
liill down on their knees and pray for the good of the 
infant's soul. Anotlicr day he was asked to a party, 
given hy the Rev Alfred Ollivont on his promotion 
ill the chureh. The bottle was being pushed about, 
and some one began to sing, wlicii Prince rose up 
ironi the table, followed by Kcea, and abruptly left the 


room ; their departure being hailed hj the company 
>vith jeers and liinse-s. 

In the meetings of the Lanipcter JJrethren, Trinco, 
with his soft voice and phicid mien, afiectid a tone of 
authority which ratlicr galled hid friends, since he as- 
sumed a right to speak before them in the name and 
by the power of the Holy Gliost Itees describes Itim 
at tliis date as a man of prayer and self-denial, care- 
less of tlio world's praise, a powerful searcher of 
hearts, who lived in his own person a holy life, and 
who never spoke to the transgressor without effect. 
Many, said Ilees, were blessed in his ministiy; and 
when Prince came finally into the public avowal of 
that faith which has since shaped his course, this 
pious and steadfast friend, who had known him better 
than any one else in Lampeter, could only exclaim in 
anguish and despair, ** Thus fell that dear child of 



AFTER Prince liad passed and been ordained for 
service, he received the offer of a curacy at Char- 
linch; wliich offer he laid before the Lord in prayer; 
and after much waiting for a sign, he accepted it, by 
the firm belief that in going to Charlinch he was 
obcj'ing the will of God. 

The Rev. Samuel Starky, Rector of that parish, 
being sick and absent^ the whole duty of the churcli 
fell upon the new curate, and the new curators wife. 
Yes, upon his wife; for among the changes whii'li 

liad ciHiio niK)ii Princo, before ho left Lampeter, wcM^ 
that of being married to Martba Freeman, the bridi^ 
\)i his rtiKil. 

Hefore the newly wedded pair reniovcd from Car- 
diiran to Somerset, a work of eraec in said to liavo 
hoon accomplislied in the 8onl and in the flesh of 
I*rinoe. As he told me himself, he died to the flesh, 
and was born a second time to the Spirit. He put off 
tlio old man, he <lisearded self, he ceased to commit 
hin, anil even to be capable of sin. As I sat with him 
in his own parlor at the Agapemone, he put the (pies* 
tion of this change in his person beyon<l reach of 
doubt. ** In me,** lie said, with a gravity which was 
almost scdemn, '*you see Christ in the flesh, Christ in 
iny ilosh." The Holy Spirit, as ho told me in so many 
words, had entered into him, had died in him, so that 
his ohl body was no longer living, and the form in 
which he moved was a new creation of the Lord, like 
unto the old, but not the old. Fi*om timt time he had 
hccome identified in body and in soul with the Holy 
Spirit. I asked Prince if he wished me to understand 
that he thought himself an incarnation of the Spirit? 
He would not use the word incarnate, because Sister 
Zoc and Sister Annie would not then be able to follow 
us in what we sai<I, since they were not s<*h<dars and 
nictaphysiclans; but he declared that the Holy Spirit 
was in his flesh, and was his flesli, an<l that he had no 
wish, no hope, no life apiirt from the Holy Spirit 

At Lampeter he liad fallen in with the writings of 
(lerhanl Tersteegen, the German mystic and psalmist; 
in which ho liad found the record of a vaguo, yet 
sweet and tender longing for communion with tlie 
Heavenly Father, answered to the soul's content^ by 
an assumed absorption of tlie human supplicant in 
the personality of God. In Tersteegen, the absorp- 


tion 10, I think, to be understood of tlie will only; 

but Prince, who clove to this divine idea, sou^j^ht to 

ttiuke it true, not of the will only, but of the flesb. 

l*'rom thiH old Gennan dreamer, he learned to think 

little of laniflcif, to distrunt his own insight, his own 

x^easoning power. What is the use of intellect in u 

fallen creature, prone from his birth to sin? "What 

ehall it profit a man if he gain the world and lose his 

own soul ? The wage of sin is death. What hope 

then shall a sinner find in his perishing state ? None, 

Prince thought and said, ** PIxeept in the free love of 

Ood in Christ" Man could do nothing of himself to 

save his soul, for the malady under which he suti*ered 

was past his finite powers. The fall of man is in the 

spirit Prince laid down the dogma of salvation 

thus : ^* Sin must be pardoned in the conscience, ere 

it can be $uMued in the heart." 

Hence, on his own part, lie became eager to shed 
the consciousness of self; to nurse no wishes of his 
own ; to wait and watch for the divine 8Ugge.««tion ; 
and to yield up every thought of his soul to guidance 
from above. Day by day lie parted from the world. 
If he was going out for a stroll, he would inquire of 
God whether it would rain. If he wanted a chair in 
his room, he would ask leave of the Spirit to biiy one. 
He would not put on a new coat, take np an umbrella, 
without resort to pniyer. Nay, he abandoned the 
habit of judging for himself in the commonest things, 
to follow what he called the jiromptings of the Spirit, 
even when they urged him to act against what seemed 
to be his good. 

Of the great change which he said took place in his 
soul, it would be unfair to give any other story than 
his own. Indeed, he felt some doubt whether it was 
lawful even for himself to enter upon this sacred 

CIlARLIXriL 103 

theme. " I have passcil," he Baid, " right throuf^h tho 
ini(Ulle of litCf and eoiuc out on the otlier Bide into 
(mmI." P]Uewhere, and in other words, he dcHcrilies 
liiniHolf iiH I)avin<^ died to tlie floBh. ** I die daily. My 
inward life is undergoing a gradual dcrttruetion." At 
last hirt will was Bhiin and put away. The man, Henry 
Janiefl I*rince, existed no longer; he Iiad been cruci- 
fied in the flenh and in the Hpirit; and all that re* 
niained of what had once heen the Lampeter Btudont, 
wan a visilile emhodiment of the Holy Spirit 

Charlinch, the village in Somerset to which i\\Q 
spiritual pair, at once mother and son, bridegnHini 
and hride, removed from Lampeter, hiy in a low val- 
loy, on a cross road, fur from the world; it had two 
hundred ]»loughmcn, a careless and distunt gentry, an 
absent jtastor, and a goo<l fat glebe. The churah was 
small and poor, in a fine position, on a high knoll, 
from which the eye swcjit joyously along copse and 
corn-field to the dark-green hills; but the tower was 
rent^ the roof was unsafe, the graveyanl heaped and 
rough. Pews of the bad kind blocked up all thcBpaco 
inside; and the sacred edifice had, on the whole, a 
look of dirt, neglect, and death. Two Iiouses stofnl 
on the hill of Cliarlinch, and flanked the church; tho 
rectory on one side, on the other side a fumi. Tho 
rectory was a good stone house, built in a garden, 
fenced by a high wall, and sheltered by rows of trees. 
Under this wall lay the glebe land; a fine fat field, 
which dropped down a sunny slope, and Bent into tho 
]tastor's mill abundance of golden grain. Farms dotted 
the rolling valley, and parks adorned the ascending 
Hlopes. As to the peojile who dwelt in these farms, they 
were brutish and dull, perhaps, rather than vicious 
and lost. If a stranger in this valley hasaBcnse of being 
Kuddeuly swept back into the Uepturchyy uothiug 
17 N 



snggestA to hi« mind the wickccIncM which flourif^hefl 
111 the Cities of the Plain. From Starky I learned that 
neither in his early dajM nor since has there ever been 
a ]niblic-hou0c in Charlinch ! 

Into this rough bucolic Eden, Prince and his bride 
were »u<ldenly thrown. Now, tliought Prince, was 
the time for Uod's reign to connnence on earth ; and 
as he gji/.ed from the rectory window over the sleepy 
hollow up towards the Quantock hills, he felt his houI 
inspired to begin the work. Martha was at his side, 
his faitlifnl and devoted spouse, frail in body, bent 
with suffering, and white with age, yet ready for her 
share, and more than her share, of toil in this vincyanl 
of the Lonl. 

For more than twelve months after his coming to 
Charlinch, Prince went on pounding away at his rough 
quarry; the simjile staring, the cynics laughing, at 
what they thought the fun of his revival warmth. For 
a long time the revival passion burnt in him witbout 
igniting his hearers. Three i>cr8on8 from an adjoin- 
ing parish clomb up the hillside to his house, and 
s|ioko with him about their souls; but no man, no 
woman, in his own congregation made a sign. What 
should he do next? His sister, his spouse, was sick- 
ening of her work; ami she became so feeble, that her 
husband was compellcil to carry her to Hath. His 
hoait liegan to taint. Wwi his reward was nearer than 
he thought ; for some of his sermons had appeared in 
print, and one of them had found its way to the bed- 
side of his rector in the Isle of Wight, on whom it 
had wrought what seemed to him a miraculous call. 
On his sudden and strange recovery fn>m sickness, the 
Rev. Samuel Suirky had set out for Charlinch, wlicrc 
ho found his cun\te struggling with his misery, and 
took th« Bufterer to his heart. The Lord, says Prince, 



iinitod these two men in one bo<ly an<l one ^^^ 
Starky IkmI private means, ami, what was of y 
more n>omcnt to his eurate, he wa« u man of mil 
and yielding temper, who from adminition ft>r Priiic 
heoame a Lampeter hrothcr, and adopted his theory 
of the Holy Spirit. Prinee reports that, altlionprh this 
friend nupported him hy prayers and ijoodwill, lie did 
not jiresnnic to meddle with his work. Five new 
rases of conversion came heforc him ; among them an 
ohl fellow of seven ty-fi ve ; a widow of eighty; a 
wiekeil old crone of seventy-fonr. These were hut 
the first-fruits of his zeal. A stir was now seen in the 
church; a farmer, a farmer's wife, a roadster, a milk- 
maid, came in for ghostly counsel; in a few weeks 
nearly thirty persons had heeome alarmed for their 
souls. Prince called a meeting for prayer on Tuewlay 
evening; lie gave a lecture on Friday evening; ho 
founded a special meeting for prayer on Sunday morn- 
ing, hefore the ordinary congregation came to church. 
A month later, he was bold enough to set apart one 
night in the week for prayer; when the more zealous 
of his followers couhl spend the night together, — 
praying, chanting, groaning, weeping, — asking God 
to vouchsafe a sign of Ilis presence, to pour out His 
Spirit on their minister, and to show them the day of 
an especial grace. 

Starky grew limp and low; this tumult overpower- 
ing him, so that he could not preach, and hardly read 
the service. One Sunday, when he climbed into the 
]>ulpit, he could not speak ; his mouth was shut up aa 
by an angel; he could only sob out his excuses, and 
beg the people who had faith in prayer to come into 
the rectory, and help him to pray for light. About 
tiity ]>ersons followed him int4> the house, and kneel- 
ing down in rows, poured out their souls to God. 


Rumora of this scone ran tlm^ngh the townfl and 
Combes between the Polden hills and the Quantock 
hills. From Bridgwater and Spaxton, from Canning- 
ton and Over Stowy, erowds came pouring in to see 
the dumb parson — mobs which collected in the village, 
and then hurried into the churcl) to laugh and jeer. 
One Sunday the silent man gave tongue. The church 
>va8 cn>wded with people, among whom there was 
much i<llo and pn>fane curiosity, but not, I fancy, 
much devotion. Starky, wlio was still shut up — "a 
mere dumb dog," as our Puritan fathers used to say, 
walked to his desk as usual, and stood by his book, to 
»ee how the Lonl would deal with him that day. A 
spirit of prayer fell on him. lie knelt, and poured 
out a flood of words; then, rising to his feet, ho read 
the text in a clear voice, and preached a sermon such 
as those who heard it never could forget — a strain not 
loud and fierce, as of high human eloquence, but soft, 
and sad, and solemn as life and death ; ^* searching as 
fire, heavy as a hammer, and sharper than a two- 
edged sword." A strange fear fell on the j>eople. 
Many of the men dropped their heads on their chests; 
nearly all the women sobbed and shrieked ; one im- 
penitent urchin laughed. 

Prince now proposed that they should winnow the 
harvest, separating the grain from the chaff, the con- 
verte<l from the lukewarm; but the lukewarm did not 
like to be called chaif, and when they saw that Prince 
was not a man to go back in what he said, they got up 
stories against him and his friend. They were the 
higher class of farmers, artisans, and dealers. They 
paid their tithes, they rode to hunt, they dressed in 
decent clothes ; in fact, tliey considered themselves as 
the veiy flower of the Charlineh flock? These men 
made a noise which was heard by Uie Right Reverend 

riiAiiuxon. 197 

Fiitlipr in 'ioti, (;oorg« ili-iirv l,a\v, in liio {nilnfo iit 
Wi'iU, where tlic ri'iMirt of ii n-viviil riot wu» itnytliiiij; 
l.iil Mi'li'oiuc to Ilie a;ictl liinliop. Tlie eliiitt" on Iwiiij; 
winnowfd, not only lofl tlic cliiirdi, l)Ht used their 
[.imcr In i>rcvcnt their wivoB and gcn'nnta from iittcml- 
in;; cither the evening or the Siinilay Bcrvioc. liroila 
;iri«e ill these turmn. Women, prevented from going 
r<i the evening iiieclinp«, ctiiil tliey w-oiild Icnvc their 
iionieri; htixhiiml-', hIiU'k with ji'alttusy and anger, 
llireiiteneil that it' llie women wont to mcotin.!f they 
would kill them ; buyK and girlx (inarreiled witti tlieir 
]<an-iitK, Hcrvimtrt with their ninKtern; while the un- 
godly ridd)1e took iidvmitngc ot* thiit uiinxir to hoot and 
tnrse. Sturky, now iindur rrince'a rule, wonid not 
hi^ten to udvico from witlioiit to go buck to the uitugo 
of an older time, when cvcrj' man in Charlineh went 
to eliurnh and enjoyed hie Bnnday nap. In the end, 
the advisers of his aged and vencraldc hiiihop cume 
down from Wells with lii» mandate, and silenced the 
revival priest. 

JVincc now panscd in douht, and, but for the eonnscl 
of liees and others of the Lampeter Brethren, ho wnuld 
probably have gone out at once trom the Kstublishctl 
('Imrch. On finding that peace could be restored to 
Charlineh and the nearer parishes only by Prince's 
removal to another county, Bishop Law's iiilvincrs 
Hfiked bini to resign his license, and seek u field of 
uael'ulncns in the Ohurcli elsewhere. Uiit how could 
a revival preacher be made Vn see that a prudent counu) 
waji the line for him to take? IVineo replied to hia 
bishop's counsellors that these things were of Qod, and 
not of man; that ho had not come to Charlineh of lit* 
own design ; and that he could not leave it save by an 
intimation from above. Then canto an order to de- 
prive him. How was ho to tuku this signal! Princo 


went to liis room, aihI fell upon hifl knees. Was tliis 
mandate from Wells a sumnions from on high? At 
first he thought it was ; so he took a room, where he 
announced that in future he should preach to such as 
would come and hear him. Some few farmers left 
their church; not many, hut enough to form a centre 
for restless souls. Thus hegan the movement, which 
ended, after Starky had also been deprived, in what 
was called the Charlinch Free Church. 

In the midst of these commotions Martha died. 
Then, with a swiftness which shocked his enemies 
and amazed his friends, the doting husband of this 
fairest among women was married to a second wife. 



YOU must not judge of what Beloved may do by 
common rules," said Starky, when I told him how 
such haste in marrying a second time aiiccted men 
and women of decent mind. *' It was a great affliction 
to him, but he could not put the thing away." I must 
have smiled at these words of the Anointed One ; for 
he added, in a pleading tone: '^You judge him ill; 
he could not help it, since it was the will of God." 
**That ho should marry a second time?" 
" It was done for God's glory, not man*s profit" 
The second wife, as I learned elsewhere, had a small 
annuity of eighty pounds a year. *' I was near him," 
Starky said, ^*all through this trial. I saw him sufler 
in the body and in the spirit. I sufiered with him; 
and I also sufiered with his wife, who was my sister 


niid nij' mirflC, my hotit cninpanion, ami my tloniVHt 
IVit'iiil. Xuiic of lis fOuM IiL'lji it Nt'itlicr lie nor nhc 
\vi>iil<l wiilinn^ly linvo un<1vr;riiiio tliiit tiury onli-iil. 
Tlu'y In'Oiinic man aii<1 wile, not of tlicirtivvii ilc»irti, 
lull Riiii|ily liocmisc it wnn tlic will ofOoiI." 

Tti i>iit lliirt Hi-c-oiiil briilitl livturc tliu rcixIcr'M eyes 
ill it)! i-oiDplcU'iioitK, I iniiHt^o hiK-k to the ciirlicr love 

Wliilo I'rinco wns bHII liviiijj; ut Lampctor, wiiUing 
for tlic time wlieii lie could piiHH ami l>o onlniticd, two 
grent passions would nppcnr to liavc all but abxorbutl 
liirt being: one pawtton n carnal craviii^r for Murtlia 
Freeman, the spiritunl mother luid pupil whom ho liiul 
h>tl in Widtioinho Crescent; the other pimsion a niyft< 
tical (Icsiro to become nnitctl in soul and body, if such 
thing could bo, with the Holy Glio^t. And these two 
yeanlings hnd become so mixed and fused in tho 
reveries to which he gnvo himself up, that the carnal 
desire could not be separated from the spiritual craving, 
nor the spiritual craving from tho caninl demro. Tho 
dreamer, in hia own ponton at leoHt, Appeared to hnvo 
lost all sense of the ditlercnce felt by ordinary men 
between flcrih and ftpirit, spirit and flesh. 

The truth would seem to be, that l*riiica had pon- 
dered over the Songof Songs until the allegoricnl und 
sensuous innigcs of that wiindroiis lyric in prose had 
got themselves tangled and transformed within his 
busy brain. Tho woiils had deseribed bis love, the 
comments pictured bis desire. A roo u[>on tho mouii- 
talns had been to him nii image of his boating pulse 
and his bounding feet; white the rush and licut of tho 
young damsel in tho Song had replied liko an echo to 
the throbhigs of his heart. Thus, tho lines which, 
seeing how sacred were the things which ho took the 
verso to menu, should have divided, like heaven from 
earth, the Shulamitu girl fnmi tho West Indian spiiistcri 


lia<l conic to bo in Iiih oyo^^ weak aiul faint. Thifl 
toelile and faclinir woman in Witlconil>e Crosoont Inul 
been lii-* love, his <lovo, his sister, his 8|k>uso, liis fair 
one. Day and nij^lit he had cried out to her in the 
sileneeof his thouD^hts and dreams, Thou hast ravished 
my heart, my sister, my spouse ; thou hast ravished 
my heart with one of tliinc eyes ! As he hiy on a sick- 
bed, turninj^ in pain, his tliou<rhtB wouhl stray into 
the Syrian vineyard, into the garden of nuts, and linger 
with joj- among tlie lilies and fig-trees. Martha had 
been the sister, the spouse, who rose to admit him, 
her hands dropping with myrrh ; and he had called 
upon God in his prayers to unite him for ever Mith 
this bride of his soul. But this love for a creature 
whom he knew to be fallen like himself*, though burn- 
ing in his veins and glowing in his words with the old 
nether fire, }iad been blent and fused in his imagina- 
titui with that which he would have described as his 
more aacred passion for the Holy Spirit. One had 
been part of the other, and he had never thought of 
them as two things, but as one thing. When his soul 
liad gone forth, as it were, towards Martha, it had only 
done BO by permission fi-om the Holy Ghost. When 
he liad prayed for union with his beloved, it was only 
af\er waiting for a sign and seeing that such was the 
will of God. Not my will, but Thine be done, had 
been the burden of every plea which ho put up. 
Twice or thrice as he lay in pain, a doubt would creep 
into his soul : might not his love for Martha, and his 
love for God, conflict? What if he should receive a 
sign ? Could he give up his fair one, his sister, Ids 
spouse ? Dark and long had been the hours in which 
these questions tormented the student's soul. Could 
he give up liis spiritual bride at the call of God? Of 
cartldy things he had yearned for nothing as he panted 

lijid coino upon Prince, before lie left Lampeter, waa 
that of hoing married to Martha Freeman, the brido 
of his 8oul. 

Ucfore the newly wedded i»air removed from Car- 
di«raii to Somerset, a work of grace 18 Bald to have 
liocn acconiplinhed in the soul and in the flesh of 
Triiu'e. As he told nie himself, he died to tlie flesh, 
and was born a second time to the Spirit. He put oflT 
the old man, he discardetl self, he ceased to commit 
hin, and even to be capable of sin. As I sat with him 
ill his own parlor at the Agnpemone, he put the (piea- 
tion of this change in his person beyond reach of 
doubt. ** In me/' lie said, with a gravity wliich was 
almost solemn, "you see Christ in the flesh, Christ in 
my flesh." The Iloly Spirit, as ho told me in so many 
words, had entered into him, had died in him, so that 
his old body was no longer living, and the form in 
which he moved was a new creation of the Lord, like 
unto the old, but not the old. From that time he had 
hccome i<lentified in body and in soul with the Holy 
Spirit. I asked Prince if he wished me to understand 
that he thought himself an incarnation of the Spirit? 
lie would not use the word incarnate, because Sister 
Zc»c and Sister Annie would not then be able to follow 
US in what we said, since they were not srholai's and 
metaphysicians; but he declared that the Holy Spirit 
was in his flesh, and was his flesh, and that he had no 
wish, no hope, no life apart from the Holy Spirit. 

At Lampeter ho had fallen in with the writings of 
(lerhard Tersteegen, the German mystic an<l psalmist; 
in which he had found the record of a vague, yet 
sweet and tender longing for communion with the 
Heavenly Father, answered to the sours content^ by 
an assumed absorption of the human supplicant in 
the pcrsomility uf God. In Tersteegen, the absurp- 


tion 18, I Uiiiik, to bo understood of the will only ; 
but Prince, who clove to this divine idea, sought to 
make it true, not of the will only, but of the flesli. 
From thiH old Qernmn dreamer, he lonrncd to think 
little of hiniRcIf, to distrust his own insight^ his own 
reasoning power. What is the use of intellect in u 
fallen creature, prone fix)ni his birth to sin ? What 
Bhali it profit a man if he gain the world and lose his 
own floul ? The wage of sin is death. What ho|»e 
then shall a sinner find in his perishing state ? None, 
Prince thought and said, ** Except in the free love of 
God in Christ" Man could do nothing of himsolf to 
save his soul, for the malady under which he suitered 
was past his finite powders. The fall of man is in the 
spirit Prince laid down the dogma of salvation 
thus : " Sin must be pardoned in tlie conscience, ere 
it can be BuMued in the heart.*' 

Hence, on his own part, he became eager to shcil 
the consciousness of self; to nurse no wishes of his 
own; to wait and watch for the divine suggestion; 
and to yield up every thought of his soul to guidance 
from above. Day by day lie parted from the world. 
If he was going out for a stroll, he would inquire i»f 
God whether it would rain. If he wanted a chair in 
his room, he would ask leave of the Spirit to buy one. 
He would not put on a new coat, take up an umbrella, 
without resort to pniyer. Nay, he abandoned the 
habit of judging for himself in the commonest things, 
to follow what he called the promptings of the Spirit, 
even when they urged him to act against what seemed 
to be his good. 

Of the great change which he said took place in his 
soul, it would be unfair to give any other story than 
his own. Indeed, he felt some doubt whether it was 
lawful even for himself to enter upon this sacred 


tlienic. " I have passcil," ho ftnid, " right through ^ 
iiiidille of lito, and cotuc out on the other side h 
(lod." P]Ue\vhcrc, and in other words, he dcKcrilK 
liinisolf iiH Iuivin<ic died to the flesh. *'*' I die daily. M 
inward life is undergoing: a gradual deHtruetion." 
hist hirt will was slain and put away. The nnin, Henr;^ 
James I^-inee, existed no longer; he Inid been cruei 
fied in the ilesli and in the spirit; and all that re^^ 
niained of what had onee heen the Lampeter studcnty.i^ 
was a visil)le embodiment of the Holy Spirit. 

CInirlineh, the village in Somerset to whieh tlio 
spiritual pair, at onee mother and son, bridegroom 
antl bride, removed from Lampeter, lay in a low vad- 
loy, on a cross road, far from the worhl; it had two 
Jiundred j»loughmcn, a careless and distant gentry, an 
absent pastor, an<l a goo<l fat glebe. The church was 
small and poor, in a fine position, on a high knoll, 
from which the eye swept joyously along copse and 
corn-field to the dark-green hills; but the tower was 
rent, the roof was unsafe, tlie graveyanl heaped and 
rough. Pews of the bad kind blocked up all the space 
inside; and the sacred edifice had, on the whole, a 
look of dirt, neglect^ and death. Two houses storid 
on the hill of Cliarlinch, and flanked the church ; the 
rectory on one side, on the other side a farm. The 
rectory was a good stone Iiouse, built in a garden, 
fenced by a high wall, and sheltered by rows of trees. 
Under this wall lay the glebe land ; a flue fat field, 
which dropped down a sunny slope, and sent into the 
]iastor*8 mill abundance of golden grain. Farms dotte<l 
the rolling valley, and parks adorned the ascending 
slopes. As to the people who dwelt in these farms, they 
were brutish and dull, perhaps, rather than vicious 
and lost. If a stranger in this valley has a sense of being 
Kuddeuly swept back into the llepturchy, uothing 
17 N 

^04 HrmiTUAL WIVES. 

^Uggeste to hi« mind the wickcdncM which flourished 
^U the Cities of the Plain. From Starky I learned that 
^cither in his early dayM nor since has there ever been 
u public-honse in Charlinch! 

Into this rough bucolic Eden, Prince and his bride 
'U-crc sucUlenly thrown. Now, tliought Prince, was 
tlic time for Uod's reign to coninicnce on earth ; and 
aa be from the rectory window over the sleepy 
liollow up towards the Quantock hills, lie felt liis soul 
iiis|>ired to begin the work. Martha was at liis side. 
Ills faitliful an<l devoted spouse, frail in body, bent 
\K'\x\\ suftbring, and white with age, yet ready for her 
»1iare, and nioro than her share, of toil in this vineyanl 
of the Lonl. 

For more than twelve months after his coming to 
Charlinch, Prince went on pounding away at his rough 
cjuarry; the simple staring, the cynics laughing, at 
what they thought the fun of his revival warmth. For 
a long time the revival passion burnt in him without 
igniting his hearers. Three persons from an adjoin- 
ing parish clomb up the hillside to his house, and 
8])oko with him about their souls; but no man, no 
woman, in his own congregation made a sign. What 
should he do next? His sister, his spouse, was sick- 
ening of her work; antl she became so feeble, that her 
husband was compelled to carry her to Hath. His 
hoait l>eg;iu to faint. J5ut his reward was nearer than 
he thought; for some of his sermons had appeared in 
print, and one of them had found its way to the bed- 
side of his rector in the Isle of Wight, on whom it 
had wrought what seemed to him a miraculous call. 
On his sudden and strange recovery inm\ sickness, the 
Kev. Samuel Starky had set out for Charlinch, where 
ho found liis curate struggling with his miseiy, and 
took th« Bufterer to his heart The Lord, says Prince, 



iinitod these two men in one l)o<ly anil one sonf-^ 
Stnrky IuhI private means, and, what was of yeC^ 
more nvoment to his eurate, he was a man of niilil 
an<l yichling temper, who from adminition for Prince 
hooame a Lampeter brother, and adopted hi« theory 
of tlie IToly Spirit. Prince rejiorts that, n1tlion«rh this 
friend nupportetl him !»y prayers and goodwill, he <lid 
not presume to meddle with his work. Five new 
ca.'^es of convei'sion came before him ; among them an 
ohl fellow of seventy-five; a widow of eighty; a 
wicked ohl crone of seven tj'- four. Tliese were hut 
the first-frnits of his zeal. A stir was now seen in the 
church ; a farmer, a farmer's wife, a roadster, a milk- 
njaid, came in for ghostly counsel; in a few weeks 
nearly thirty persons hatl become alarmed for their 
souls. Prince called a meeting for prayer on Tuesday 
evening ; lie gave a lecture on Friday evening ; ho 
founded a special meeting for prayer on Sunday morn- 
ing, before the ordinary congregation came to church. 
A month later, he was bold enough to set apart one 
night in the week for prayer; when the more zealous 
of liis followers could spend the night together, — 
pniying, chanting, groaning, weeping, — asking God 
to vouchsafe a sign of His presence, to pour out llis 
Spirit on their minister, and to show them the day of 
an especial grace. 

Starky grew limp and low; this tumult overpower- 
ing him, so that lie could not preach, and hanlly read 
the service. One Sunday, when he climbed into the 
pulpit, ho could not speak ; his mouth was shut up aa 
by an angel; he could only sob oat his excuses, and 
beg the people who had faith in prayer to come into 
the rectory, and help him to pi-ay for light. About 
tiity ])ersons followed him int4> the liouse, and kneel- 
ing down in rows, poured out their souls to Go<I. 


Rumors of i\m scone ran through the townn and 
combes between the Pohlen hills and the Qnantock 
Tiills. From Bridgwater and Spaxton, from Canning- 
ton and Over Stowy, crowils came pouring in to sec 
the dumb parson — mol>8 which collected in the village, 
and then hurried into the church to laugh and jeer. 
One Sunday the silent njan gave tongue. The cliurch 
was crowded with people, among whom there was 
much idle and pmfane curiosity, but not, I fancy, 
much devotion. Starky, wlio was still shut up — "a 
mere dumb dog,*' as our Puritan fathers used to say, 
walked to his desk as usual, and stood by his book, to 
see how the Lonl would deal with him that day. A 
spirit of prayer fell on him. lie knelt, and poured 
out a flood of words; then, rising to his feet, ho read 
the text in a clear voice, and preached a sermon such 
as those who heard it never could forget — a strain not 
loud and fierce, as of high human eloquence, but soft, 
and sad, and solemn as life and death; ^'searching as 
fire, heavy as a hammer, and sharper than a two- 
edged sword." A strange fear fell on the people. 
Many of the men dropped their heads on their chests; 
nearly all the women sobbed and shrieked ; one im- 
penitent urchin laughed. 

Prince now proposed that they should winnow the 
harvest, separating the grain from the chaff, the con- 
verter! from the lukewarm ; but the lukewarm did not 
like to be called chaff, and when they saw that Prince 
was not a man to go back in what he said, they got up 
stories against him and Iiis friend. They were the 
higher class of farmers, artisans, and dealers. They 
paid their tithes, they rode to hunt, they dressed in 
decent clothes ; in fact, they considered themselves as 
the veiy flower of the Charlinch flock? These men 
made a noise which was heard by the Right Reverend 

inontli, to wliifli Prinoc — after srattorinir the Roodf* of 
his faith in Bri«xlit(>n, whore he was imich admired — 
went down. Tlierc they set up an Ahode of Love, on 
a tiny seale, and preaiohed in a tavern on the eoniing 
of the Holy Gl»08t. From amoni^ tlic farmci-fl of Dor- 
sot, and the dowa^j^ors of MoK^omho, the two men made 
jilonty of additions to their ilook. The dootrined 
whioh tliey proaohod wore oomfortin*^ to the piour* 
mind; for they doohired — witl» shouts and soni^s — 
that the Son of Man was a1>out to eome; that tlic 
woHd was in its hitest day ; that tlic p>dly few were 
bein*]^ eliosen from the mass; and that the wicked 
many were ahout to perish in pcmd fires. 

Into the assembly-room of the Koyal Hotel — wlioro 
the ofKcers hohl tlieir balls, and the sin^ing-wonicn 
^ive their coneerts — Prince invited his followers and 
disciples, to whom he made known the fact — wliioli 
he had hitherto veiled in hints and parables — that tho 
time for winnowiuif the world had come; for sepanit- 
in';^ the wheat from the chatl'; garnering up the har- 
vest, and casting out the refuse into heaps. In Iiis 
solemn tones, lie declared that the day of grace waii 
past — the day of judgment come. A door had been 
(»|»ened for the chosen ; it was now closed for ever. 
Those wlio had not entered in, would find no poss^ige. 
The angel who had sat in the mercy-seat was gone, 
and his throne was now empty in the heavens. Tho 
lost were lost — tho saved were saved. With a «mI 
and sober joy, Prince told his audieneo of bucolic 
squires and ancient dames that in the hour of wrath, 
when tho earth and the skies would bo passing away 
in fervent heat, all those — but only those — who had 
now received tho Holy One (in Ids own person) would 
bo snatched from the burning wreck. 

A hundred aged spinsters, with a few children, and 


pcrliapj^ as mnny men, arc 8fli<l to have composed tlio 
whole of thiH choRcn band. 

Prince, however, assured me that these numbers 
were below the truth. Five hundred, persons, ho 
says, were gathered in tliat d.iy unto Qod. 



WHERE should these saints take up their rest? 
Thomas and Cob])e had built, in the green coun- 
try lane, at Spnxton, near Charlinch, in tlie midst ot* 
tlieir fir^t disciples, a handsome stone chapel, in which 
they held service, and to which many of the peoj)le of 
the district still adhered. The situation of this chapel 
was choice, secluded, and poetic. Springs and becks 
aboundcil near it. The hills were clothed with chest- 
nut, oak, and fir; the land was fat with corn; the 
woods were rich in game ; and the Saxon peojde in 
the dales and combes were soft and slow. Bridgwater, 
the nearest town, lay four miles off, and was only to 
be gained by cross and diflicult roads. If any place, 
even in the west country, could bo said to lie out of 
the world, it was Spaxton. Here, then, Heaven itself 
appeared to have given these saints a home, in which 
they might dwell in peace, waiting for that solemn 
hour in wliich God was to be reconciled through 
IVince to the living flesh, so that it sliould not die. 

The house in which Beloved and his witnesses lived 
ill Belfield Terrace, Weymouth, was an Abode of 
Love; the brothera and sisters dwelling under one 

uriLDisn Tin: auode. 200 

roof, livinjx a oo1i1>site lilo, norvinrj tlio Lord and wuit- 
iiitr nntil He hIioiiM roiuo. I^it tliis Iiouho in lUdtield 
'IVrracc was* noitlior lariro on<»U(;)) nor ]>loasant onon«;h 
lor tlie elect. A mansion, a jranlen, an estate, were 
wanted a.s a dwellinir-plaee meet lor the liOrd of all 
this enrtli ; tliin,ir>^ to be found, kg Tliomas and C(dd>o 
ro|»ortcd, in the Spaxton bottom, round about the tree 
ciiureh wliieh they had built ; but then, these low and 
fertile lands bclon^^ed to sinnei's, wlio would not pvo 
them up, as a free oiferin^i^, t(» the Lord and His saints. 
IIi»w could tlic purchase-money be niiseil? What had 
the Ai>ostle8 done when they wanted gold? Had they 
not called upon the brethren to throw their wealth 
into a common fund? 

Scripture goes a long way witli the pious mind. 
What had been said in Judea, might be said in Dorset, 
rrincc, Starky, Williams, and otljcr of these BrethriMi, 
began to whisper among tlieir wards, that the second 
])cntecost being come, all tliose wlio wonhl flee fn>m 
the evil djiy, must sell what they luid in store, gather 
up the produce of this sale, and bring it as an ottering 
to the Lamb. 

A movement, subtle, singular, romantic, now set in; 
quickening a holy zeal in hundreds of men, in whom 
such mystery of sacriflcc would not have been expected 
to tind a liomc. Craftsmen sold their tools, grocers 
their stock, farmers their land, to throw their posses- 
sions into a common fund. Those who could do no 
more, brought in a basket of eggs, a pail of milk, a 
cart-load of straw. The chosen met together in the 
fashion of the anc[ent Agapro, to eat and drink, to 
sing and pray, to look for signs and wondei's, and to 
rejoice as one family in the Lord. The world was 
"ear its end ; the chosen were to live henceforth as 
one body of wiints;to live as brothers and sisters, 
IS* o 


clierubs ami sonijilis, nniteil in tlic Son of Man. Old 
rt'lationn of Mood and wodlock were now to he eitlior 
diHsolvcd or changed. A nahit was re(juircd to give 
up all tlie world, whether in the Am\\\q of house and 
land, of father and mother, of wife and child; taking 
God in future for his all in all. Love w*a8 to ho eon- 
tinned and inercased, for God is love; hut courtship 
was to hecoine an exercise of the soul, wliilc wedlock 
was. to shed its old relations with the carnal man. 
Those who were single were to keep so ; those who 
were married were to live as though they were not. 
A man was to he to his wife a spiritual hushand ; a 
woman was to he to her hushand a spiritual wife. 

In the midst of so many renunciations, what was 
the sacrifice of a few acres of land, of a small sum in 
consols? In the day of wrath all i>roperty would he 
dirt Of what value arc gold and jewels to a spirit 
that is horn afresh ? As the Sen'ant of the Lord had 
been slain in the flesh, and raised in the spirit, so were 
they, his children of the new life, ahout to witness a 
sudden change. The day and the hour were nigh. 
In ever}' assemblage of the chosen, either Starky or 
Thomas rose up, and cried with a (piick voice, as of a 
trumpet — 

Lo ! lie cometh : 

When the world should be burning into ashes, and 
the skies should be melting in the fervent heat, where 
would be the use of their flocks and herds, their corn 
and fruit, their rank and state? Could they ride on 
horses to the throne of grace? Could they drive in 
chariots to the judgment-seat? Sell what tliou hast, 
had been the divine injunction to the called; and who 
on the edge of doom would stand and dispute the 
word of God ? 

Not all the farmers of Dorset, not all the dowagers 

- V 


of Molcomho; Honic of these aold their cou^^oIk, thoi^ 
their fanii-s for tlie Loril, — perhaps I t*liouhl kiv, ft) 
tlie Servant of the Lord, rrinec heeanie the i^euera 
hanker and tru»*tec for all the wiintn whom ho haa 
8ave<l. If he wanted money, lie wouhl semi ft>r it. 
** Sister Jane," ho wouhl write, "the TA>nl ha* need 
of tifty ponndrt. Amen:** — and Sister Jano would 
send him either lier purse or elieck. Some large, and 
many small sums were paid into tliis treasury of (Jtul. 
St^irky tlirew into the fund a thousand pounds. Julia, 
as the seeond of Trince's elderly spiritual wives, set- 
tled on the Lamh her annuity of eighty pounds a year, 
llotham Maher and four of his sisters contrihuted 
among them no less a sum than ten thousand pounds. 
Maher, I need not add, has been one of tho chief wit- 
nesses for Prinee, and is now the Angel of the Seventh 
Seal. More money yet, much more njoney, was 
wanted before they could think of retiring from Adul- 
1am Chapel in Brighton, and from tho Itoyal Hotel at 
AVevmouth, into such a retreat as would bo found a 
worthy dwcUing-plaec for God and His saints. Asa 
rule, tho Lampeter Brethren were poor, and the things 
of life had not gone well w*ith thoni. Price couhl not 
help; Thomas had done his best; and most of tho 
othei*s stood sorelv in need of all that could be done 
for them. If an Abode of Lovo were ever to bo built 
for tho Lord in that Spaxton bottom, so that Ilis lovo 
might bo manifested towards tho ilesli| tho money 
nmst bo raised from some other sourco. 

Now, it c)ianccd that among tho converts to his 
theory of the Holy Ghost whom Prince had made, 
there were five spinster latlies of the name of Not- 
tidge, each of whom had money, of her own. Tho 
father of these old maids, Josias Nottidge, a retired 
Uermondsey merchant, had lived at Hosehill, near 


dare, in Siiftolk, n short <lnve from Stoke, the lianilet 
%o which Triiiee ha<l removed after his affair in Char- 
linch. Harriet, Atrncs, Chira, (/ornelia, and Louisa, 
*ve of lii.s unmarried girls, tlic youn*;^ heintc about 
forty, tlie ehlest of no partieuhir aijo, had been drawn 
in Hpirit towards the young revival preacher. Tlie oUl 
liermondsey tradesman Inid jeered at their peteuratc; 
their mother ha<l <leelined to receive him into her 
house; but these elderly <lamsels had only elung to 
IVinec the more closely for what they calle<l tliis per- 
secution of the world ; ami wIumi their father died, 
leaving them six thousand pounds a piece, three of 
tliese five sisters, Harriet, Agnes, and Clara, had left 
their honjc at Kosehill, near Clare, and taken a house 

- near Adullam Chapel, in Win<lsor Street, Brighton, 
hoas to enjoy the benefit of living in the light of their 
pastor's eyes. From Brighton they had followed him 
to Weymouth, and after that gathering of Saints in 
the ball-room of the Hoval Hotel, when IVincc and 
his chief disciples liad proposed that the chosen ones 
should repair to Spaxton, there to found an Abode 
of Love, these three ladies liad east in their lot with 
the elect. When the company of Saints crossed the 
hills from Weymouth into Somersetshire, the three 
ladies rode with them, travelling by the same coach, 
but lodging in different inns at night. 

At Taunton, where they rested for a few days, the 
Brethren lodged at Gilcd* Hotel, the three spinjiter 
ladies at the Castle Inn. Here a little scene took 
jdace. Early one day Prince sent over to the Castle 
Inn for IL'irriet, the ehlest sister, who put on her bon- 
net and went across the street to Giles* Hotel; where 
Prince, who recei\x)d her in the presence of liis wife 
Julia, and the Rev. Samuel and Mrs. Starky, told her, 
with great concern of heart, tluit it woidd be for the 

7? llLDJXa THE ABODE, m 

^lorj* of Goil if she would marry lii« yonnir frioiul, the 
liov. Lowirt Price. Tlie niai<len hlunhed, then an- 
swered she was readv; on which tlio Ser\*ant of the 
Lord hade her go hack in peace to tlic Cantlc Inn, and 
to lock this secret elosely in her heart. Next he sent 
for her sister Agnes, a jiroutlcr spirit, with whom ho 
felt that he must take a stn>nger course. "Agnes," 
he said to her, when she came into the* Inn parlor; 
'*(iod is ahout to confer on you a special Messing; 
hut crc I tell you what it is, you must give me your 
wonl to ohey the Lord and accept His gift." Agnes 
paused ; hut, thinking it could do her no harm to 
accci)t a hlessing, she gave her word. ** Then," said 
Prince, ** in a few days you will he united in marriage 
to ]>rother Thomas." Such a gift as a hushand wiis un- 
expected hy the lady, and her maiden coyness plcade<l 
for delay, as tliero would be kinsfolk to consult, nnd 
settlements to make. '^ You will need none of these 
things," Prince replied ; **in this aflair you must think, 
not of the world, but of God." 

" JUit my mother," Agnes pleaded. 

" God is your father and your mother," said Prince. 

"Lawyers," she urged, **tako time." 

**Why do you want a lawyer, dear?" asked Mrs. 

"Well," said the blushing spinster, "for the chil- 
dren's sake." 

**You will have no children," Prince broke in; 
"your marriage with our brother will be spiritual 
only; your love to your hushand will bo pure, accord- 
ing to the will of God." 

Agnes bowed her head, and could not say him nay; 
hut she went out from Giles* Hotel that morning with 
a heavy heai*t. 

Later in the da}', the two sisters were invited to 



oomc over from the Cnstlc Inn to dine with Prince in 
his room nt Giles' Hotel, where they met the two 
cunites, Price and Thomas, the new lords whom they 
had taken, and were duly presented to these yonnjj 
men as their future brides. Two days later, Clara 
was persuaded to accept of Cohhe. By these arrange- 
ments ei«^hteen thousand pounds of tl»e old Bermond- 
sev merchant's monev were sweiit into the hands of 
those who liad control of the common fund. 

The three sisters, iindin<r themselves so suddenly 
cujira^ed, would like to have pone home to Rosehill 
for a while; but to this course IVince objected, telling 
them that such a course was not in harmony with the 
will of God. He forbade them to consult a triend, or 
even to write one line to their mother, until the knots 
were tied. Harriet anil Clara yielded u]> the point. 
Atrnes made more stir about a settlement of her money. 
Thomas would not liear the word, althou<;h he was 
w^illin;: to invest her property in their joint names; 
and after a loud remonstrance, slic submitted to lier 
fate. All tlic details were aiTanged in prayer. Prince 
liad a call that these three nmrriatres should be solem- 
nized at Swansea, in Wales; to which town the whole 
party went away. The three women had not one old 
friend near them. Starky gave away the brides; 
Prince looking on, but taking no active part. Within 
a few days of their vows being whispered, the property 
of Harriet and Clara was made over, in bulk, to Prince; 
and 1>y Iiim invested in tlio purchase of a nice house, 
a large garden, and a good estate, for tlie new Abode 
of Love. 


ciiArTKR xxxr. 

A>*TEU TttlALS. 

4 GXKS THOMAS pnned, an they foarod she 
^1. would, a very black nhecp. Pride IcmI her into 
d<»u)»t, donht into ^in. Alone with lier youthful lius- 
l»;uid, A\M could not help nayin^ wliat hIio thought of 
]*rince, which was Honietinies^ far from pleasant to 
l*rincc'rt friend. Thonian, who seemed to love her, 
]i>tcnc«l to her voice. JShe kept him away fmm Wey- 
mouth, to which Prince had gone hack; and when his 
leader, growing jealous of her power, took uj) hin pen 
and wrote, — ^^**I5rother Thomas, I command you to 
arise, and con»c to Weymouth, Amen," nhe jiersuadcd 
him to disobey, at least for a tinie, and to go off on a 
visit to his mother at Llandilo. Jiut her power was 
not equal to that of Prince. Thomas went back to 
Weymouth, carrying his wife along with him to wluit 
was anything for her but an abode of love. Harriet 
;ind Clara were there with their husbands, Price and 
Cohbe ; as were also 8tarky and Ids wife. These 
Haints met together in the drawing-room, when Agncd 
was brought before them on u charge of 8eeking to 
witlidraw her huaband fnna Prince. Every voice con- 
denmed her; the voices of her sisters most of all. 
Wlien the others had said their worst. Prince added 
on behalf of the Holy Spirit: **If you dare attempt to 
influence your husband again, in acting contrary to 
niy c<mimands, God will crush you out of the way." 
Thomas, her husband, then declared his will. •* Agnes/' 


lie said, ** I coinniancl you to obey hciieefortli the 
Spirit of God in iiic, made known to nic tlirough the 
Sen^ant of the Lord.'* Abashed and broken, she 
retired to her room. 

8oon after tliis time, she beeame aware that eflbrt^ 
were being ma<le to induce her younger sister, only 
forty years old, to come in. She thought of writing 
to Louisa, and began a letter of friendly counsel ; but 
her note was found in her room, and shown to Prince, 
on which there was a further scene. At night, on 
Agnes going to her bedroom, she found Tlionuis 
standing in the doorway. ** You are lost,** he said in 
eftVct; ** you enter here no more; there is an empty 
room ; go in ami find such rest as you deserve — you 
who Imve crossed the Servant of the Lord." Agnes 
felt in that moment as though her heart would break. 

Prince and his male disciples went away from Wey- 
mouth to Spaxton, where the works of repair and re- 
construction were advancing at a rapid rate. Wings 
were being added to the house; the ganlens were 
being laid out afresh. 

While the Saints were at Spaxton, a tattling servant 
brought the news to Prince that Sister Agnes was in 
the way which is said to be desired by ladies who love 
their lonls. The chief was furious. "This comes," 
he groaned, "of sin. She is faithless, she is fallen; 
she must be wist away." 

At first, it seems to have been a question whether 
all the sisters should not share her fate. Reports 
arrived in Weymouth that not one of the three ladies 
Would see her husband any more. Harriet and Clani 
were incensed against their sister; perhaps they 
sought, through hardness towanls her, t4> melt the 
heart of their husbands* friend. At length came news 
from Thomas, written :n Spaxton, from the Abode of 


Love, that Afijnes slionM imek up her things ami go 
away from I>elfie1<l Terrace; iirrtt to Ii'im ]n(»t)icr at 
lilainlilo; attcrwunls to lier own niotlier at lioseliill. 
Thoniart came to lier no nn>re. 

In lier mother's liouf^c the poor la<ly found a homo; 
there lier t»on Cieorjxc was l>orn ; and tliere slic eon- 
tinned to reside until the hid was four years ohl, when 
Starky made an eitort to carry him away. ThiseUtirt 
heinic resiste<l, an action was hrouijht, wlien the moth- 
er's ris^ht to have the tniinini]^ ami society of her chiki 
was fully estahlislied hy a court of hiw. 

But tliesc trials of A«rnes di<l not save her sister 
Louisa from casting in her portion with the saints. 
Slie came down to Spaxton on a visit; and the hig 
house heing still in the huilder's liands, she lodgi'd 
within the grounds, at Waterman's cottage, with Julia 
IVincc. Tlicsc two ladies were alone one dav in their 
ro<un, when three gentlemen — Edwanl Xottidgc, the 
Kev. Pepys Nottidge, and Frederick l*eter IJipley — 
hrokc into the house hy the back-door, forced thein- 
Holves into Louisa's room, and said they had come to 
fetch her away. They told her first that her mother 
was ill, and had sent for her. She declined to go. 
They then seized her by the waist and forced her into 
a roach, which tliey hail bronght ninnd to the front, 
she fighting and screaming until the carriage was out 
of sight. Telling people she was ma<l, they got lier 
to London, near which they locked her up in an asy- 
lum for the insane. For eighteen months she wsis 
kept under lock and key, no one at Spa.xton knowing 
where she was confined, until she escapetl from her 
keepers, and found refuge in a family hotel in (/aven- 
clish Square. Cobbc came up to see her, and as she 
desired to go back to Charlinch, they started to return 

by rail, when one of the madhouse messengers caught 


tliem on tlic platform, and curried his captive back 
atgain to her cage. 

Louina protested that her kinsmen only followed her 
for lier nioncv ; and declared that a^ Koon as hIic conhl 
gsiin her freedom, hIic wouUl give it away, so s\s to dis- 
arm their nnilicc of its motive power. 

Having fonnd her liiding-plaee, Cohbc, who knew 
that his siriter-in-law was not insane, a[)plied to the 
CommiHJ^ioners of Lunacy. An inquiry was made, 
Barry Cornwall wrote a report, and the patient was 

Louisa now went back to Spaxton ; but before her 
arrival at tlie cottage, she took measures to transfer 
the whole of her i»roperty to Prince. Like the money 
of her sisters, it went into the Abode of Love; in 
which place Louisa lived very hapjiily until her death, 
when her sisters laid her, as their manner is, beneath 
the gross. 

It WX18 after this rape of Louisa, that tho brethren, 
not being men of war, introduced a couple of blood- 
hounds itito the yards of their dwelling. 


ciiArTEu xxxn. 


rpiIK (lay for the (Yreat MaiutcHtution nt length luul 
X come. 

" You say the day of gnicc is p;wt^ tlie (hiy of judg- 
ment come?" I Rdked Prince, in one of our conver- 

" Do not miHtake my words/* said Beloved ; and 
Zoo hcHonght me with her beaming orbs that I w*ould 
not miHconceive her master'n meaning. Then Prince 
exi»Iained to me in many a vague and winding phrase, 
that the day of grace, an the word is used by him and 
his disciples, means the dispensation of grace. Most 
men mean, I fancy, by the day of grace, a day in which 
the soul can be saved ; missing which day, it is lost 
i\^t ever. But such. Prince begged me to take note, 
is not his use of that awful phrase. 

In the words of Zoe's Beloved, five great covenants 
have been made between God and man : the first with 
Adam, the second with Noah, the thinl with Abra- 
ham, the fourth with Jesus, the fitlh and last with 
i^rince. The time during which a covenant keeps its 
force, is called a dispensation. Plach dispensation has 
had a special purpose and an apiiro]>riato name. Tho 
covenant made with Abraham brought in tho dispen- 
sation of the law, that with Jesus the dispensation of 
grace. Therefore, when Beloved announces that tho 
day of grace is past, ho means to say that tho reign 
of Jesus has been Huccoeilcd by that of I^rincc. 

»» SriUlTrAL WIVES. 

"In me," snid my host, with solemn i^ravity, "you 
iH'hohl the Love of (to<l. Look on me. I am one 
in the flesh with ChriHt. In me the Holy Si»irit han 
nhiin the deviKH life. I died to God, ami was renewed 
in the Spirit to do His work. By me, and in me, God 
has redeemed all flesh from death, and hrou<(ht the 
iHxlies of hreathing men into the resurrection state." 

"Do not most of our ehun*hcs," I remarked, "aj)- 
pear to hold thisdoetrine of a future life in the hody ?** 

"We hold it," said ]*rinee, •'of the jircsent life. 
GahYa purposes are now fulfilled, and man is no longer 
a thrall of languor, pain, and death. The earth itself 
is niised. Jesus came into the world to destroy the 
deviTs work in the soul ; I came to destroy it in the 

" Has that design hcen earricd out?" 

" It has." 

" In the Ahode of Love ? " 

** In Goal's own time and way it was accomplished ; 
not in secret, with fohled doors; hut in open day, he- 
fore clouds of witnesses." 

** We are his witnesses ! " cried the First and Sec- 
ond of the Anointed Ones. 

" AVe are his witnesses ! " eeliocd Sister Ellen and 
Sister Annie. I am not certain w*hether Zoo spoko 
this time ; I fancy not 

"In that Manifestation of His love," said Prince, 
"God hecame reconciled to man, and flesh was re- 
deemed for ever, even as the soul had hcen redeemed 
of old." 

In the whole history of this peoi>lo there is nothing 
so hanl for me to descrihc in Iiomely phrase for men 
und women who are not saints hy profession, as their 
mysterious rite of reconciliation. It may he only 
fear that checks my pen. The brothers and sisters 


poom to have no sharp ftoiiRO of that which appears to 
mo 80 wiM and ntrangc. ("onlVji/uii^ that wltat thoy 
have 8cen was a deep mystery to them, like many 
other things which helong to grace and peace, they 
will not own that there is cause for any good man's 
nature heing sliockeil hy what tliey liavc to tell. IJotli 
^Jister Kllen and Sister Annie spoke to me freely of 
their feelings in this matter; they had known the 
parties engaged in it; they had heen present when 
the act was done; they had seen what came of it; in 
truth, they had been witnesses in the attair from first 
to last; yet they evidently felt no shame in the trans- 
action, and could not be nn\de to see how the world 
could have any right to blame a deed through which 
it had obtained the hope of everhisting life. Starky 
and Thonnis both declared to me that as clergj'men 
and men of honor, they could see no wrong in that 
which had been done, though they allowed that the 
case might be so presented to a Gentile as to be made 
a stumbling-block in his path. Their trouble was, 
not that the Great Manifestation had tuki}n place in 
the Abode of Love, but that it had failed to exhibit 
the whole series of beautiful phenomena >vhich had 
been exjiected from it by then), if not by Brother 

In order to complete the great work of reconciling 
the fallen creature to the Holy One, it was made 
known that Prince, the servant of the Lord, afler he 
had died in bis own person to the flesh, and had been 
raised again to life in the spirit, should take flesh 
ui>on himself once more, in the name and by the 
power of God, so that God might know the creature, 
and the creature know God, in the flesh ; and thus the 
whole order of living men might bo saved — their 
l»odies, like their sonis; the whole man being pur«''e<I 


from ftin, received into t^nice, and fused into the Holy 
One for over. 

To tliis en<l, n virgin ninst l»e fonnd ; a bride of the 
Liuni); yonn^, hoautiful, and pure. 

Xow, ainon/ic the convertH whom Prince had called 
toirether in the hall-moin of the Kc^yjil Hotel, Wey- 
mouth, there hsid been a lady named Paterson. Her 
liushand was dead, luiving left her, young and a 
widow, with money and a little girl. Was that girl 
the woman of beaming eyes whom I knew in the 
Agapemone as Sister Zoe ? 

When the exodus of saints liad taken place from 
Weymouth, the widow and child had come over with 
Beloved and his male and female partners in salvation 
to Spaxton, where they ha<l been lodged by Prince, 
when the houses were made ready for his children in 
the Abode of Love. Here the mother, not being 
perfect I suppose, had died, and been put away be- 
neath the turf, leaving her orphan girl to the Saints, 
unaware of the great fact that her little eliild was to 
be tho chosen Mary of the iinal dispensation of this 
world. But so it was, according to the testimony given 
to me by Sister Ellen, by the Angel of the Seventh 
Trumpet, and by the Two Anointed Ones. 

"It was a very tender and solemn time,** said Sister 
Ellen to me, "the most tender and solemn time we 
have ever known. Great things have been done in 
this Abode ; the Lord has been with us often, wrestling 
mightily with our spirits ; but I have never felt so 
strange a joy and wonder as I felt in that hour.*' 

There seems to liavc been much reading, pmyer, 
and singing; for every one expected some great thing 
to happen, and no one knew exactly what might come 
to pass. Prince gave out that by the power of God 
ho was about to take a virgin, as it were, to wife; 

THE a UK A T M YSTKR V. 223 

iiiarryiiiji: licr a8 tlic gn><>in is ninrruMl to the liriilo; 
not ill four ainl 8liaiiii\in sisooivt i»lai*oaiiil witli loldiMl 
iloors, but o]KMiIy, in the hicht of noon, in the presence 
of ail his nuile and female saints. He said it was the 
will of God, that he nhouhl take thin virgin of his own 
motion, hy his own sovereign right; oont^ultin*; no 
ono, least (»f all the ohjeet of his ehoiee. He did not 
Kiy which lady he would take. Thus it behooveil the 
virj^i UH to he ready, Kincc no one could pretend to wiy 
when the hride<jcro«)ni would arrive. After 8ealinp^ lier 
to IdiuRelf by a kiss, he was to live towards her, to 
eliorish her, to keep her near him, so that the celcKtial 
spirit and the thing of clay should grow into each 
«)tlier, and become one for evermore in body und 
in soul. Who was to be this new Madonna? 

The luxurious hall in which the First Anointed One 
received me at my first coming to 8paxton, — that hall 
with the red carpet, the billiard-boards, the cosy sotan^ 
the stained-glass win<iow8, everywhere adorned, in 
silk, in i^aint, in oak, with tlie mysterious symluds of 
strength and love, the Lion and the Lamb, — was niailo 
the scene of this nmrriage of the spirit an<l the flesli. 
A day was set apart for the saving act; brethren und 
sisters were called in from their several roonts; an- 
thems were sung; and then Beloved stood forth, and 
told them of the puqtoses of God. The world, he said, 
was only saved on the spirit-side. The earth itself 
was not yet saved. The Gospel had redeemed the soul 
from death ; but it had left the body subject, as of old, 
to the curse. The time to expel the devil and restore 
the earth to God had come. Light and clay were to 
join in marriage ; heaven and earth were to rejoice in 
love. A new heaven had been already made ; a new 
i*arth was now to be created, eciual to that new heaven 
>i» beauty and in splendor. In fine, the Holy Spirit 


had coitic, 08 a bridegroom comct]i to his bride, — hnd 
conic in him, the Beloved ; not in the body as sinful 
clay, but in the body as glorified spirit; had come to 
the end that God might have a tabernacle in which to 
dwell, and in which He could make Himself known 
to living men oii earth. 



"VTO one knew as yet whom the Servant of the Lord 
J^ would choose as his bride in these spiritual 
nuptials. Prince wishes it to be thought that ho had 
no part — that is to say, consciously, as a man — in 
this awful rite. lie felt no sting of preference in his 
veins. For many years he had lived the life of a 
monk. Self was dead in him. As his habit had been 
from his college days, he threw himself upon the spirit, 
not thinking of his own desire, but willing to be spent 
for Gml. And this idea of his own unconsciousness, 
his way of doing what was <lone tluit day conveyed to 
others; for Sister Kilen told me, that after watchhig 
him go through this scene with close, yet reverent 
eyes, she felt sure that when he came into the room 
he did not know what he was about to say and do. 
Be that either true or false, he walked up to the 
or|>han girl. Miss Paterson, took her hand in his, and 
gave her the bridal kiss, asserting as he did so that 
his union with her was a mark of God's love for the 
flesh, — for that earth into which He had breathed the 


l»roatli of life, mid for all the saiiitB who s»too4l nbrnif 
as luMii*;^ men alive in the flesh. 

Xo fonurt of law were UBcd, or could ho used, in then 
inystie nuptials. Madonna was tlie hritle, — hIic couKK 
not safely he called a wife ten yardft from a public roacL 
while Julia Prince, now Mn*. Starky, was still alive. 
Indeed, from Prince's own wonls, it may he seen that 
slie was wooed and wt>n as hardly ever virpn ha«l been 
\v<H»ed and won, except hy the pa^^an ^ods. 

"Thus the Holy (ihost took flesh in the presence of 
those whom He had called as flesh. 

'*llc took \t \i\ free (/race. It was flesh that knew 
not God, that wanted not Uo<I, that was ignorant of 
irnn: and, like all other flesh in its nature, eontniiy 
to the ^Spirit. lie took it as it was — ignorant, indif- 
ferent, independent, at enmity against God, and having 
ni>thing to commend it to Ilim. 

'* Ho took it in love. Not because it loved ]Iim, for 
it did not; but because it pleased Him to set His lovo 
upon it. And though he took it in absolute power 
and authority, without consulting its pleasure, or even 
giving it a choice, yet He took it in love." 

•Julia, l*rince's wife by ordinance of the Church, 
was present in the room, wlien these new bridals were 
I'oing gone through, and made no sign of lier dissent 
IVom what was being done. Starky, her brother, was 
:i]so present, and he made no sign. ^*I know that 
what was done was right and holy in the Lord,*' he 
said to me when I got him to speak of it. "You 
nuist be sure,'* he said, " that I am quite sincere in my 
iu'lief, for my salvation rests upon the truth of what I 
say. If I am WTong, my punishment will be endless 
torment in the fires of hell. Can I afibrd to lodge one 
di»ubt within my breast? *' 

As to tlie new Madonna, who had never dreamt of 


^ • iifl coming trial of her faith, she bowed lier head, I am 
^^>lil, like an obedient child, and gave up her heait to 
^Vic Holy Spirit. She neither wished for this glory, 
^^or put it from her when it came. She was passive 
^n the Spirit's hand, as clay in that of a potter, who 
^Houlds it into any shape he wills. 

But the change in her condition was great, although 
rIio knew it not. Under these briilals her nature was 
sublimed; her soul became free; her InMly was cleansed 
from taint The world had now die<l in her and for 
her; slic could do anything she liked; but her heart 
Was pure, and she could never sin any more. 

Some of the Brethren, hainl of belief, were lieard to 
murmur at these rites. They thought sueli things 
unfit for saintly eyes and ears, and they expressed 
some doubts whetlier they could be done, even in an 
Abode of Love, without sin. Prince oftcred these 
sceptics a test; they tried it, and it failed; upsetting, 
as they said, the whole of their theories of a spiritual 
life. As Prince confessed, in agony and shame, 
**The Holy Ghost was denied in the new heaven and 
tlie new earth." When Madonna Paterson, Ins mystic 
bride, began to prove herself a mortal woman, he, too, 
was staggered by the fact He had persuaded him- 
self, as well as others, that his carnal life had passed 
away, and when a cliild was born of his spiritual mar- 
riage, lie was overthrown by grief and shame. 

" You would have wept tears of blood for him," 
said Sister Plllen to me, *'if you had seen how much 
he suliere<l ; lie who sufiera so keenly, and who has to 
bear the burden of us all.** 

At last he came to see that in this cross of his life 
lay hidden the highest purpose of Him whose servant 
ho had been made. This trouble was his hist conflict 
with the devil ; this unhappy child of Madonna Pater- 


Love, lliat A2:ncs should i>ack up lior things ami go 
a\v:iy from IMfield Terrace; firnt to lii« mother at 
LlniHlilo; atterwanls to her own mother at Ilosehill. 
Tlioiiiart came to her no more. 

In her mother's lion<*c the poor latly found a homo; 
tliere lier son (icors^c was horn ; and there she eon- 
tinned to rcHide until the hul was four yearn ohl, when 
Starky made an eifort to carry him away. This effort 
lieini^ resisted, an action was hroui^ht, wlien the moth- 
er's ri«^lit to have the tniiniuD^ and society of her child 
was fully estahlished hy a court of law. 

I^ut these trials of A*rues did not save her sister 
Louisa from easting in her portion with the saints. 
She came down to Spaxton on a visit; and the hig 
house heing still in the huilder's hands, she lod«j«Ml 
within the f^rounds, at Watennan's cottage, with Julia 
IVincc. These two ladies were alone one day in their 
n>om, when three gentlemen — Kdwanl Xottidge, the 
liev. Pepys Nottidge, and Frederick I*etcr Kipley — 
hrokc into the liousc hy the hack-door, forced them- 
selves into Louisa's room, and said they had come to 
fetch her away. They told her first that her mother 
was ill, and had sent for her. She declined to go. 
They then seized her hy the waist and forced her into 
a c«»ach, whicli they had hronght n>und to the frcmt, 
she fighting and screaming until the carriage was out 
of sight. Telling people she was mad, they got her 
to London, near which they locked her up in an asy- 
lum for the insane. For eighteen months she wsm 
kept under lock and key, no one at Spaxton knowing 
where sho was confined, until she escaped from her 
keepers, and found refuge in a family hotel in C/aven- 
dish Square. Coh)»e came up to see her, and as she 
desired to go hack to Charlinch, they started to return 
hy mil, when one of the madhouse messengers caught 


mystery of the Seven Stars and tlic Seven Golden 
Cundiestieks. Maber blew his trumpet, and made the 
following declaration : — 

** I declare that Go<l has brought forth Br. Prince 
the glory of Jesus Christ on the eai*th; and tluit 
the secret of the Lord therein is Iiis having been 
i|uickened in his mortal body hy the Holy Ghost, 
as the seal and climax to the fnliilment of the 
go8}»el in him: I declare, too, that Jesus Christ has 
acknowledged the work of His own S]>irit in ]»r. 
Trince in his taking flesh, and suffering the pure for 
the impure, by raising him up, the man whoso name 
is Thi^ Buanch, to his right hand in glory, and by 
giving to him the Spirit of glory.** 

When Angel Maber had sounded his trumpet and 
made his declaration, the Seven Witnesses stood forth, 
each in his turn saying: — 

** I am a witness that in the knowledge of Jesus 
Christ as tlie Sox of Man there is complete redemjj- 
tion in spirit, soul, and body from the curse of the 
fall : and, that you may know this mystery of God, 
whicli in other ages, or dispensations, was not nnuh? 
known unto the sons of men, as it is now nuide known 
in Br. Prince, I send you this revelation of tub Man 
Christ Jesus as the Word made flesh, as it lias been 
given to me.** 

This demonstration was the last great eilbrt of our 
English Mucker. 

*' What Ijave you done since these trumpets were 
blown and these testimonies delivered ? ** I asked the 
Kcv. Samuel Starky. 


ciiArTEH xxxn. 


rpIIK day lor the Great Manitcstatioii at loiigth hml 
X come. 

" You say the day of gnicc is past, the day of judg- 
ment come?'* I asked IVmee, in one of our conver- 

"Do not mistake my words,** said Beloved; and 
Zoe hesoug]it me witli her heaming orhs that I wouhl 
not misconceive lier master's meaning. Then Prince 
explained to me in nuuiy a vague and winding jdirasc, 
that the day of grace, as the word is used by him and 
]iis disciples, means the dispensation of gnice. Most 
men mean, I fancy, by the day of grace, a day in which 
the soul can be saved; missing whicli day, it is lost 
for ever. But such, Prince begged me to take note, 
is not his use of that awful plirase. 

In the wonls of Zoe's Beloved, five great covenants 
}iave been made between (lod and man : the first with 
Adam, the second with Noali, tlie third with Abra- 
liam, the fourth with Jesus, tlie fiftli and last with 
JVince. The time during which a covenant keeps ita 
force, is called a dispensatit^n. Each dispensation lias 
had a special purpose and an appropriate name. The 
covenant made with Abraham brought in the dispen- 
sation of the law, that with Jesus the dispensation of 
grace. Therefore, when Beloved announces that tho 
day of grace is past, he means to say that tho reigu 
of Jesus has been Hucceedcd by that c»f Prince. 

2!?i snnirrAL wives. 

** In me," pjihJ my liost, with fiolcinn gravity, "yon 
1h*1ioI(I tlie Love of (lod. Look on me. I am one 
ill the HcmIi with Christ. In me the Holy Si>irit \\\\a 
shiin the ilevirH life. I died to God, and waj* renewed 
in the Spirit to do His work. By me, and in me, God 
lias redeemed all flesh from death, and hrou<^ht the 
bodies of hreatliing men into tlie resurreetion state." 

**I)o not most of our ehurrhes," I remarked, "ap- 
pear to )ioId thisd<K*trine of a future life in the hody ?** 

** We hold it," said J'rinee, "of the present life. 
G<Nrs purposes arc now fulfilled, and man is no lon«j^er 
a thrall of languor, pain, and death. The earth itself 
is niised. Jesus came into tlie world to destroy tlie 
devil's work in the soul ; I came to destroy it in the 

" Has that design heen carried out ? '' 

" It has." 

"In the Abode of Love?" 

"In God*8 own time and way it was accomplished; 
not in secret, with folded doors; hut in open day, he- 
fore clouds of witnesses." 

"We are his witnesses!" cried the First and Sec- 
ond of the Anointed Ones. 

" AVc arc his witnesses ! " echoed Sister Ellon and 
Sister Annie. I am not ceiiain whether Zoc spoko 
tills time ; I fancy not 

"In that Manifestation of His love," said Prince, 
"God hecame reconciled to man, and flesh was re- 
deemed for ever, even as the soul had heen re<Iecmed 
of old." 

In the whole history of this people there is nothing 
so hard for me to descrihe in liomely phrase for men 
and women who are not saints by profession, as their 
mysterious rite of reconciliation. It may be only 
fear that cheeks my pen. The brothers and sisters 


pooin to Ijave no sharp ftcuRO of that whicli appear?* to 
ino 80 wild aiul ntningc. (%>iilW8iiii^ that what thoy 
have 8C0U was a deep my.story to them, like many 
other things which helong to grace and peace, they 
will not own that there is cause for any gt>od man's 
nature being shocked by wliat they have to tell. IJolh 
ISistor Kllen and Sister Annie spoke to me freely of 
their feelings in this nuUter; they had known the 
parties engaged in it; they had been present when 
the act Wiis done; they had seen what came of it; in 
truth, they had been witnesses in the attair from first 
to last; yet they evidently felt no shame in the trans- 
action, and eonid not be nnide to see how the world 
could have any right to blame a deed through which 
it had obtained the hope of everhisting life. Starky 
and Thomas both declared to me that as clergymen 
and men of honor, they could see no wrong in that 
which had been done, though they allowed that the 
case might be so presented to a Gentile as to bo made 
a stumbling-block in his path. Their trouble was, 
not that the Great Manifestation had taken place in 
the Abode of Love, but that it had failed to exhibit 
the whole series of beautiful phenomena w*hich had 
been expected from it by them, if not by Brother 

In order to complete the great work of reconciling 
the fallen creature to the Holy One, it was made 
known that Prince, the servant of the Lord, after he 
had died in his own person to the flesh, and had been 
raised again to life in the spirit, should take flesh 
U|K)n himself once more, in the name and by the 
power of God, so that God might know the creature, 
and the creature know God, in the flesh ; and thus the 
whole order of living men might bo saved — their 
lK>dies, like their souls; the whole man being pup^'cd 


from Rin, rcccivod into s^nico, an<l I'lisetJ into tlic Holy 
One for ever. 

To tliis end, a virgin must be fonnd; a bride of the 
Ijunib; yonn;^, beautiful, and pure. 

Xow, ainon^ the convertH wlioni Prinee ha<l called 
ti>i(etber in the balUroorn of the Uoyal Hotel, AVey- 
inonth, there had been a lady named Paterson. Her 
lius^band Wiis dead, having left her, young and a 
Avidow, with money and a little girl. Was that girl 
the woman of beaming eyen whom I knew in the 
Agapemone as Sister Zoe ? 

Wlien the exodus of saints had taken place from 
Weymouth, the widow and cliild liad conie over with 
Beloved and his male and female partners in salvation 
to Spaxton, where they had been lodged by Prinee, 
wlien the houses were made ready for his children in 
the Abode of Love. Hero the mother, not being 
perfect I suppose, had died, and been put away be- 
neath the turf, leaving her orphan girl to the Saints, 
unaware of the great fact that her little child was to 
bo the chosen Mary of the final dispensation of this 
world. But so it was, according to the testimony given 
to me by Sister Ellen, by the Angel of the Seventh 
Trumpet, and by the Two Anointed Ones. 

"It was a very tender and solemn time,*' said Sister 
Ellen to me, " the most tender and solemn time we 
have ever known. Great things have been done in 
this Abode ; the Lord has been with us often, wrestling 
mightily with our spirits ; but I have never fdt so 
strange a joy and wonder as I felt in that hour." 

There seems to have been much reading, prayer, 
and singing; for every one expected some great thing 
to happen, and no one knew exactly what might come 
to pass. Prince gave out that by the power of Go<l 
bo was about to take a virgin, as it were, to wife; 


ol* Siilinn, t]ircc ministerrt living in tlio burnt ilii^trict 
(if Xew York, could lianlly hoapt of nnytliing hoyoud 
a little fame on tlic country Bide, until the cauMO in 
wliii'h they toiled had put their naniCR into the nioutliH 
of men. They did not ntakc the revival ; the revival 
ntade them. 

Those in whom the spiritual leaven first began to 
work were working members of ohl and highly reputed 
churches. The Kev. Abram 0. Smith, the story of 
whose life as the spiritual husband of Mary Cragin I 
shall have to tell in detail, wasa Wesleyan Metlnxlist. 
Man|uift L. AVorden, whose confessions will be found 
on a later page, was an Kpiscopalian Methodist. Lu- 
ther Meyrick and James l^oyle, the most eminent per- 
haps of these revival preachers, were Kvangelicals. 
The Hev. Theophilus It. Gates, editor of The BatiUAxe, 
and founder of a wild sect in IMiiladelphia, was an 
Independent The Rev. John II. Noyes, the father 
of Pauline communism, was a Congregationalist 
Cragin, the moral reformer, and Moore, the leader 
among Sunday-schools and Bible-classes, were both 

For more than a year, the facts whicli are seen in 
all revivals where the scale is large and the country 
wild, were noticed in tlieso burnt districts of New 
York and Massachusetts ; afterwards, as the fury spread 
ahroad, they were seen in a hundred towns, in a thou- 
san<I hamlets, of the United States. By a sudden 
promi>ting from within, so far as men could see, a 
number of orderly and reputable pei^sons began to ask 
each other, in eager words and with pallid lips, how 
it stood with them in the great account Were they 
ranked among the chosen ? Were they ready for the 
Lord's coming? Did they feel in their souls that the 
Lnnib had died for then), and that all their sins had been 

231 SPiniWAL WIVES. 

purgCMl away ? Some could not aiiflwor. Some dared 
not face tliwc (jucstions. Who could tell that he was 
saved? Many of thoHc who were in doubt hej^n to 
seek. Men who liad never been at church before be- 
came courttant hearers of the Word. At first the old 
and 8tca<Iy preachers welcomed this change of min«I ; 
their pews being now let, their Bcrmons heeded, and 
their benches filled. But soon the frenzy of desire to 
know the best and worst rose liigh around them and 
above tliem, frothing beyond their guidance and con- 
trol. A service once o-week was but as a drop of 
water on the lips of men and women panting for a 
living brook. The churches had to be thrown oj^en. 
At first an evening meeting was called for prayer; 
then a morning meeting; afterwards an hour was 
snatched from the busy noon ; until at length some 
ministers took the course of keeping what was called 
an open house of Go<l, from early dawn until long 
past midnight every day. Pallor fell on the bronze 
cheek, alarm invaded the callous heart. By night 
and day the chapels were crowded with sinnei*s, im- 
ploring the Lord to have mercy on them. Heaven 
Was assailed by multitudes of souls, conscious of sin 
and peril, and seeking to take the judgment-seat by 
storm. The church brimmed over, so to speak, into 
the street. Rooms were hired ; school-rooms, dancing- 
halls, even theatres; every place that would hold a 
congregation became a church. In the country dis- 
tricts, camps were formed for prayer ; a cart became 
a pulpit, a tent a chancel, the stump of a tree an altar; 
while hundreds of wandering and unauthorized preach- 
ers, male and female, took the field against Satan and 
the flesh. In the agony which grew upon men's souls, 
the regular clergy came to be esteemed as dumb and 
faithless witnesses for the truth. Farmers and tinkers, 


IiuhI of voice and fierce of aspect, ran alwnit tlio coun- 
try, callini^ on ninnen* to repent, and tlec from tho 
wrath to come. All ranks and orderi^ were confoundiHl 
in a common sense of <lani^er, and the i^i^norant tl«>rks 
wlio luul pithered nmnd these propliets of doom, were 
easily perttuaded that the calm and conscrN'ativo 
churches of the world, wliich hooked on all these do- 
ings sad and silent, were dead and damned. 

This spiritual tempest crossed tho Atlantic Ocean 
into England, and the Knglisli Channel into Germany, 
in both of w*hieh countries it found a people more or 
less open to its unspent power. In America, wliero 
it was native and national, it had a wider success and 
a longer reign than in Europe; but in England and 
in Germany it kept up a faint and irregular kind of 
activity for many years. In truth, no ono can assert 
that in cither country, any more than in America, its 
force 18 spent and its service done. 




THE new Pauline Church of America, founded in 
the course of this Great Revival, was divided from 
the first into two great ))ranches and many sub- 
branches. The first professors of holiness had their 
home at Manlius, in the State of New York, with the 
liev. Iliram Sheldon as their leader and ex])ositor; 
the second liad their home at Yale College, in tlie 
Stiite of Connecticut, afterwards at Putney, in the 
State of Vermont, with tlie Rev. John II. Noyes as 
leader and expositor: but these centres of holiness 
were not fixed and final ; these chiefs of the IVrfect 
Church did not reign alone. In America, no place is 
the sole seat of empire, and no first-man has an undis- 
puted reign. Sheldon's power was shared by the Rev. 
Jar\'is Ri<ler, the Rev. Martin P. Sweet, and the Rev. 
KraHmus Stone. N(»ye8, on his side, had to consult^ 
and sometimes to follow, the Rev. James Boyle and 
the Rev. Theophilus R. Gates. 

This Pauline Church — professing to have been 
founded on a new series of visions, intimations, and 
internal movements of the Spirit — taught the doc- 
trine that man may attain to the perfect state, in which 
lie sliall be cleansed from sin and made incapa1)le of sin. 
Into the dogmatic part of this question, thus raised, I 
need not enter, since it is a very old theory in the Church, 
and has found some favor in the eyes of orthodox and 
exalted saints. The testimony, both of Sheldon and 



his followers, also of Xoycs and his followers, was that 
they hiul heon saved from sin by the power of faith, and 
were entering ui»on the enjoyment of j»erfeet love. 

In the winter months of 18.*>4, a general c«mvention 
«»r tlie New York l*erfoctionistH was called at Manlinn, 
a viiiai^e of cotton-mills, in Onandaga county, six or 
seven miles from Oneida Lake. The iieople, who asseni- 
Med in a hecr-lionse, heanl the now gospel proi*laime<l 
hy Ilinini Sheldon from Delphi, Knismns 8tone from 
Salina, Jarvis llider from De Uuyter; the meeting wsis 
warm in tone, and many of the young factory girls 
were ilniwn that ilay to ii closer knowledge of the 
Lord. At Manlius, the chosen to4)k upon themselves 
tlie name of *' SaintH." Here they announced their 
separation from the world. Here they hegan to debate 
whether the ohl marriage vows would or would not bo 
binding in the new heaven and the new earth. ^^ When 
a man becomes conscious that his soul is saved,** says 
Xoyes, '^ the first thing that he sets about is io iind his 
Paradise and his Eve.*' It is a very sad fact, which 
shows in what darkness men may grope and pine in 
this wicked world, that when these I'erfect Saints were 
able to look about them in the new freedom of Gosi»el 
light, hardly one of the leading men among tliem could 
lilid an Eden at home, an Eve in his lawful wife. 

The doctrine openly avowed at Manlius was, that 
with the old world which was then passing away would 
go all legal bonds and rights; that old ties were about 
to become loosened, and old associations to end ; in- 
cluding those of prince and liege, of cleric and lay- 
nian, of parent and child, of husband and wife. These 
old rights were to be replaced by new ones. A king- 
<lom of heaven was at hand; and in that kingdom of 
heaven every man was to be happy in his choice. And 
it w;is not only right, but prudent, to prepare bctiiucs 


for that higher state of conjugal blisH. The doctrine 
taught ill the privacy of the love-feast an<l the prayer- 
meeting was, that all the arrangements for a life in 
heaven may be made on earth ; tliut spiritual friend- 
ships may be formed, and spiritual bonds contracte<], 
valid for eternity, in the cliapel and the camp. Hence 
it became quickly unilerstood among them that the 
things of time were of slight account even in this 
earthly life; and that the things of heaven were to be 
considered as all in all. Not that any rule came into 
vogue wliich either led, or looked like leailing, to a 
breach of the social law. On this point all the wit- 
nesses spenk one way. .]u<lgcd by their daily lives, 
Shehlon ainl his followers struck the mere observer 
as men who lived by higher rule and a better light 
than their neighbors of the Lake countr)'. If they 
sang of their return from Uabyjon, it was with a staid 
and sober joy. If they had escape^l froia bonds, they 
saw that the worhl had still some claims upon their 
conduct. From of old the letter and the spirit had 
been at war; in their new condition the Saints were 
called to bear witness against the llesh ; yet the spirit 
and the letter should be held to a fair account with 
each other in their words and deeds. In truth, the 
lirst tendencies of this Pauline Church were rather 
towards an ascetic than towards an indulgent life. 

Among the persons whom this great revival had 
brought into notice was Miss Lucina Umphreville, of 
J^elphi, a young la<ly of high descent, of good ability, 
of engaging manner, and of great personal beauty. 
She was an early convert, an<l her strong will, aided 
by her sweet face, gave her a leading influence in the 
sect. Lucina claimed to have visions, intuitions, in- 
spirations, on many {loints of faith; more than al! 
others, on the relations of the two sexes in the Ue« 


<loomor*R kingdoii). Thc«c relations wore the constant 
tliomc of her <li«court»eH. Like Ann Lee, the foundrcftii 
ot' Shakerisni, she held that in the day of graee all 
love hetween the male and female mn8t he chaste and 
holy. Hence she raised up her voice against wedlock 
and the wedded rule. She licld tliat the females mnnt 
not think of love; that the men must not woo them; 
that tlie church muHt not celchrate the marriage rite; 
and that those who had already paissed heneath the 
yoke must live as though they had not. 

Most of the women, I am told, fell into Lucina's 
ways of thinking on this suhjcct. Ho article was 
adopted, for articles were not the fashion in New York. 
Hut the young farmers and artisans in the burnt dis- 
trict, who had thought their course of love running 
smooth enough, were suddenly peqdexed by coyness 
and reserve on the part of girls who had heretofore 
greeted them'Avith <^iniles and kisses. A mob of lasses 
hegan to dream dreams, to interi)ret visions, directed 
against love and nnirriage, as love and marriage were 
understood by an unregcnerate world. Some of those 
girls who were old enough to have been engaged, threw 
up their lovers. Younger girls held oft' from the 
coareer sex. Married women grew dubious as to their 
line of diity; which doubt and fear led, wliere the 
husbands happened to be worldly-minded, into many a 
serious breach of domestic peace. In fact, these female 
saints had become so good that the young men of the 
district said they were good for nothing. 

Lucina Umphreville, the cause of so many breaking 
hearts, was generally denounced by the men as Miss 
Anti-marriage. But, like Elderess Antoinette of 
Mount Lebanon, Lucina Umphreville did not con- 
denm the male and female saints to live a life apart, 
nnd thus to become absolute strangers to each other. 


VonnjEC licrwolf, niul full of lovo for bor kind, bIic al- 
IowcmI M>nic play to the hi;xb<T atfoctioiis, ho long ns 8honl<I ho cxercintMl only in the Lord. Men and 
women might he friends, though she could not pennit 
them to heconic lovers and mistresses. Untler Lncina*R 
guidance, for in these things Sheldon himself could 
not fight against her, a sweet and perilous privilege 
was assumed hy these New York saints of entering 
into new ami niysterious honds of the spirit. In this 
friendship of souls the law was to have no v^iice, the 
ilesh no share ; nude and fennile w*erc to he brother 
and sister only; they might address each other in 
sacred terms, and grant to their beloved the solace of 
a Indy kiss. Beyond tliese freedoms they were not to 
go; and even these sweet privileges were to bo put 
aside <m any movement in the heart suggesting an un- 
chaste desire. The love was to bo wholly pure and 
free. No law was over laid down ; but it was Uicitly 
agreed among the saints that these tender passages of 
soul with soul were not to bo niade the subject of idle 
Udk. An air of silence and reserve, if not of secrecy, 
was thought to belit so solemn an encounter of s]>irits ; 
and every one was expected to guard in his fellow a 
right which he was free* to exercise for himself. So 
intimate a connection of the nude and female saints 
was likely to become known by a special and striking 
name. Some one in the Church suggested that this 
new reliition of souls was that of the spiritual husband 
to his spiritind bride. 

So far as I can see, the name appears to have been 
fii-st used in New York by the Rev. Erasnms Stone, a 
revival preacher at Salina, the famous salt village lying 
on tho shore of Onondaga L;ike. In the early days 
of tho revival, Stone had soon a vision of tho night. 
A mighty host of men and women iilloU tho sky ; a 


Kuddeii Rinrit seemed to (|uieken tliem ; they began to 
move, to cro88eaoh otlier, and to fly hither and thither. 
A ^reat pain, an eager want, were written on their 
faros. Each man appeared to be yearning for some 
woman, each woman appeared to he moaning t\>r oomo 
man. Ever}' one in that mighty liOHt had seemingly 
lost the thing mont precious to his heart. On waking 
from his 8h]inher, Stone, who liad perhaps been read- 
ing Plato, tohl tliis dream to liis disciples in the salt- 
works. When liis people asked him for the interpre- 
tation of his dream, lie said, that in the present stiigc 
of being, men and women are neairly always wrongly 
jmired in marriage; that his vision was the day of 
jutlgment; that the mighty hosts were the risen dead, 
who had started from the gnivo as they luid been laid 
down, side by side; that the trouble which had come 
upon them was the (piick discerning of the spirit that 
they had not been truly i»aircd on earth; that the 
violent pain and want upon their faces were the desires 
of every soul to find its natural mate. 

Keports of this vision of the night, and of Stone's 
iiiteri»retation of it, ran like a prairie-lire through the 
rcvivad camp. Sheldon adopted this idea of a spiritual 
allinity between man and wonnui ; declaring that this 
s|>iritual kinship might be found by dclicsite tests in 
tliis nether world, and that this relation of the sexes 
to each other extends into the heavenly kingdom. No 
long time elapsed before Stone and Sheldon were both 
found putting their doctrine to the proof. In Salina, 
there lived a married woman of some beauty and much 
intelligence, named Eliza Porter, who luid been an 
early convert to holiness, and a leaiding member of the 
Chuivh. Stone had need to see Eliza very often ; fi»r 
they led the pniyer-meetings and managed the eliurch 
business in common. Stone found in Eliza u hcli>- 


meet in the Lord ; nnd as their hearts melted towardn 
each other, they he^an to iind afliiiities in their aouIs 
which they had not imagined. All the members of 
their church perceived an<I jnstitied the union of these 
two Roul«. Sheldon, too, discovered that he had been 
married by mistake to a stranger spirit, one who would 
be happier when she got her release from him, and 
found the original partner of her soul. He found his 
own second self in Miss Sophia A. Cook, a young un- 
married lady living in the lake country. 

Lucina Umphreville held that this sort of friend8hi[» 
hctw*een male and fonuile saints in these latter days 
and in the Perfect Church, was not only allowable in 
itself, but hfuioniblc alike for the woman and the man. 
St I'aul, she said, had his female companion in the 
Lord; and it was right for Sheldon, Stone, and Kider 
to have each liis female companion in the Lord. The 
Kf^v. Jarvis Uidcr is said to liave taken the young lady 
at her wonl, and to have jiressed liis claim for a share 
•in her mystic dreams. True to her creed, the beautiful 
girl entrusted herself in spiritual wedlock to a man 
who very soon proved by his acts that be was unworthy 
to have been trodden beneath her feet; and the state 
into w*liicli she parsed tlirough this contract with Rider, 
she represented to herself and toothei*s as the highest 
condition ever to be rc'ached on earth. 

To yeai*s atler the convention of Saints iifMaTilius, 
a meeting was c«illed at Cunaseraga, also in the burnt 
district, at which Rider and Lucina Umphreville were 
present, as the chief male and female preachers. They 
travelled in company, and held a common testimony 
as to the Lord's doings in their souls. They spoke of 
their affinity for each other; describing tlie state into 
which they had entered as one of high attainment ami 
lasting peace. In this meeting they professed to have 


chained i\ new and nohlor gronnd of rcligioiiA expo- 
riiMice any which thoy ha«l previously enjoyed; 
as^rtortitig in tlieir Hcnnonn tliat thoy h; ^ now attained 
to the 8tato of the resurrection fn>ni the dead. 

In this meeting, and in other meetings whieh fol- 
lowed it^ Rider and Lucina took the high ground lield 
hy the followers of Ann Leo; that of a pure antl per- 
fect chastity heing the only hasis of companionship 
hotween man and wonnni in the Lord. Their strength 
was spent in a daily protest against what tliey calicil 
the work of the devil in the tlesh, and many persons 
in the burnt district followed them iu this war upon 
the world and the world*8 ways. Along the shores of 
Ontario, in a hundred hamlets^ in thousands of log- 
huts, good women were in sore distress of mind. a)>out 
their duties in what they had been told was a new dis- 
]>cnsation. Meetings were held in village inns; min- 
iMcrs were called ; religious experiences were c«>m- 
pared. A great trouble fell upon the district — a 
trouble which was felt in every house ; the only com- 
foit to many distracted husbands being a strong con- 
viction that the world would shortly pass away. 

How long and loyally the Rev. Jar\ns Rider and 
Miss Umphreville kept to tlio spirit of their union is 
not clear. Rider was the first to break the bond, 
which he did in favor of Mrs. Edwards of Bridgejiort, 
on Lake Oneida, a sister in whom he liad found a still 
closer affinity of soul than in Lucina. Then Miss 
Umphreville, parting from her first spiritual spouse, 
entered into the same kind of relation with the Rev. 
Charles Lovett, of New England fame. This preacher 
was from Massachusetts, and he had come among the. 
New York Perfectionists as a representative of the 
Now England Pauline Chiirch. 




THE second, and stronger branch of the Pauline 
Church of America, sprang into life in Massachu* 
Bctts, a hardier province for such a growth than the 
Lake eountry of New York. 

The movement began in the post township of Brim- 
field, in the hilly Hampden county, about seventy 
miles from Boston ; of which place the Rev. Simon 
Lovett and the Rev. Channcey Dutton wore the revival 
pastors. In and about Brimtield there happened to be 
then residing a number of clever, beautiful, and pious 
women. Clever, beautiful, and pious women are not 
scarce in New Kngland ; but there chanced to be liv- 
ing at that time in Central Massachusetts an unusual 
number of those bright and peerless creatures who 
liave iK)wer either to save or to wreck men*8 souls. 
First among these female agitators stood two sisters, 
the Minses AnncMey, wlio had come into this place 
from Albany, in New York; bringing with them the 
doctrine of salvation from sin, together with Lucina 
Uniphrevillc's theory of a j»uro antl holy life. These 
ladies had infected many pei^sons, females mostly, with 
their own ideas. Next came Miss Maria Brown, a 
young lady of good position and active mind. After 
her came Miss Abby Brown, her sister, and Miss Fla- 
villa Howard, her friend. But the real mistress and 
contriver of all the mischief which befell the Saints 
in Brimfield, was Miss Mary Lincoln, a young and 


lovely girl, of liigli coniieetioii8, of aApinng spirit, and 
of bouuille88 (Iarin<;. 

The parents of this young lady were among tlio 
highest people in the plaee. llor father was a phy«i- 
oian, a man of science, and of the world. The SaintH 
of course called him an unbeliever, though he had 
always been a member in the Presbyterian Church. 
Her mother was pious, and Mary ha<I been trained in 
the severer truths of her father's faith. The habits of 
her mind led her to bo a seeker after light. When 
the Misses Annesley came into her neighborhood, 
raising their testinu)ny against sin, she went to hear 
them preach ; and, much against her father's wish, 
became a member of the Perfect Chuix*h ; entering 
with her high spirit and dashing courage into every 
m(»vement connected with the work of grace. 8ho 
was so pretty, so seductive, so peremptory, in hor 
ways, that people bowed to her will, and let her say 
and do things which no one else could have said and 
done. She helped to make piety the fashion. Sho 
rebuked the devil in high places. She held out her 
hand — a very soil hand — to the two preachers, the 
Kev. Simon Lovett and the Kev. Chauncoy Duttini, 
men who were striving with all their might to snatch 
I»eri8hing souls from hell. Petted by these clergj'mcn, 
as such a young ally was sure to be, sho threw herself 
heartily into all their schemes. When the cn>ss had 
to be borno she oflered her neck for the burden. 
When the world wais to bo defied, sho stood ready to 
endure its wrath. When a witness was required 
against shame, she put herself fonvard for the part. 
Her father raged and mocked ; but she hocded him 
not. Sho felt hajipy in this new liberty of the spirit, 
under which sho could say what came into her head, 
ami do what came into her heart. In short, sho soetns 



to have thoiifijlit tliat the revival flajr liad been given 
into her hands, an<l tliat nhe had been choBon in the 
new heaven as Briilc of ihe Lanih. 

ReportH i»r wliat Lncina Uniphreville was doing in 
the hnrnt di.'?trict of New York ha<l hegun to excite 
the iniaginationn of these yonng and clever girls. 
Was Lncina the oidy prophetoss of (jod ? Could 
they do nothing to emulate her zeal? Was no door 
open to them, with their willing hands and devoted 
hearts? Were they to be dumb and silent in the 
great day? Could they find no work in the Redeem- 
er's vineyard? Had they no stand to make against 
that world which lies in eternal enmity against Ilim? 
Surely, a way could be fountl if it were hotly sought. 
Had not tlio promise gone forth in the New Jeru- 
salem: **Seek, and ye sliall find; knock, and the door 
shall be opened unto you ?** 

They had read the story of the brethren and Sistera 
of the Free Spirit, which the Rev. Jamies Boyle had 
recently brought forward as an example for the Amer- 
ican Saints; and they yearned to imitate the self-de- 
niad of those vigorous old German monks and nuns. 
They knew the old controvci-sies of the Cliureh on 
the merit of killing shame, and they desired to find 
out a way in which to destroy their part of that sad 
evidence of man's fall. Some of their friends, like 
Mrs. Alice Tarbell, a nnirried and experienced lady, 
of good sense and keen perception, warned them 
against these promptings i>f the spirit. Alice was 
one of the saints who pn>fessed to believe in the new 
doctrines of holiness and freedom; her husband was 
a pious deacon; but she shunned the more excited 
class-rooms and iove-feasts, and kept her eyes open to 
the fact« of daily life. But the younger women would 
take no counsel save their own; for they held the wis- 


iloni of tlio wise a« <lirt, an<l road their own visionR and 
iniaglnationB as the word of God. They whinpere*! 
to eacli other ahout the duty of hearin^i^ the ctom of 
Christ; and tliey sought with earnest prayer for light 
i\^ to some phin by whidi tliey might prove their 
luitred of the flesh, their I'onternpt for haw, and their 
devotednesH to Ctoil. At length, some purposes be- 
gan to shape tlieniselves in the minds of these young 
women, which took the worid by surprise, and called 
down upon them its abiding wrath. 

Those who could see into this revival camp, un- 
hlinded by its psissions, were keenly alive to the ten- 
dency already visible among its male and female 
guards to something nK»re than gospel freedom. 
Friendship in the Lord appeared to Inivc its own set 
of looks and tones. Much whispering in conicrH, 
lonely walks at sundown, and silent recognitions, were 
in vogue. The brethren used a peculiar idiom, bor- 
rowed from the Song of Songs. A tender glance of 
the eye, and a silent pressure of the hand, were evi- 
dently two among the signs of this freemasonry of 
souls. AH titles were put aside; every man was a 
brother, every girl was a sister; except in those higher 
and nearer cases, in which the speaker seemed to have 
won the right of using a more personal and endearing 
name. When the tie between a preacher antl his con- 
vert had become spiritually close, the word brother 
passed into Simon, the word sister into Mar}'. Hero 
and there, a more advanced disci]»le would oiler and 
accept, like the German Mucker, a holy kiss. 

Under such circumstances, what more could those 
young ladies do to defy the world and kill the sense 
of shame? The leading ministers happened to be 
away from Brimfield. The Rev. Channcey Dutton 
Was gone to Albany for counsel with the Saints who 

2 IS srwrrrAL iivixv 

liad gathered around the Aiinc«K»y circle; tlie Kev. 
Simon Lovett wan in New Haven, whither he had 
l^one to consult with John II. Noye^, the wisest and 
in<»st shining li^ht in the revival host. The Rev. 
Tertiufl Strong, a very weak hrother, was doing duty 
in their place. 

Noyes was known to have preached a doctrine 
about the Second Ctuning, of which the Pauline 
Church in Brinifiehl was eager to know more. Tliis 
man had a high reputation in tlie schools; for lie had 
been a pu[»il of An(h>ver and Yale, and was supnosed 
to be deep in the best theological learning of the 
United States. The views which he tauglit in public 
were such as strike the sense, and those wliich lie 
was said to hold in secret were such as i*ouse and fas- 
cinate tlie soul. His open testimony was tluit man 
must be saved from sin by the power of faith, and by 
nothing else. The secret science, which he whispered 
cinly to the chosen few, had reference to the rule of 
marriage in the kingdom of God. 

In the absence of Lovett and Dutton, Mary Lincoln 
and Maria Brown put their young lieads together and 
hit upon their plan. Tliey had often told each other 
tJiey must do sometliing great — something that would 
8trike the world — something that would bring upon 
them its wrath and scorn. And now was the time to 
act their part 




WHILE these young women were dreaming of the 
things they were to 8uHor for Ood'a glory, their 
pastor, Simon Lovett, came back from New Haven, 
bringing with him John H. Noye«, tlio preacher of 
tliat new doctrine of tlie Second Coming which they 
wore burning to hear. That doctrine was, tliat tho 
Second Coming haul taken place — as all the Apostles 
liiid taught that it would take place — about forty 
ycai'rt after His crucifixion in the flesh. At New Ha- 
ven, Simon Lovett had fallen in with this view; and, 
being won to the new faith, he was anxious that Noyes 
nhould come over to Massachusetts and preach it to 
his Brimfield flock. 

A stir was made by his coming; for the Rev. Ter- 
tius Strong had girt up his loins for battle; putting 
on what he called his sliield and buckler against this 
teaching of the Now Haven school. On the night of 
Noyes* arrival, a meeting of tho Saints was called; 
tiie chapel-room was crowded to tho door; when 
Noyes, standing up, and opening the i»agcs of his New 
TestaTuent, turnecl to St. PauTs Kpistle to the Galo- 
tians, chapter fourth, and read it; saying that it meant 
no more and no less than the words, in their most lit- 
eral sense, conveyed. Some of tho Saints went with 
him, and some stood off. The Rev. Tertius Strong, 
his main opponent, was the first to give way and 
udmit the fact. Lovett had been already* won. Most 


€>f the yoiiiif: women came into the truth, and the 
townfthip ranc^ witli news of the arrival of this great 
mossage, and this hri^ht nicRSongcr, to ntankind. 

The Rev. John II. JCoyes, the hero of this move- 
ment, 8:iw with alarm the signs of a coming storm. 
lie foun<l that among this group of heautiful women, 
not a few of the more passionate creatures were fall- 
in«r into a state of frenzv. over which he feared that 
lie ctMild exen^ise no eontr(»l. What course was he to 
take ? 

The habits of the place were i»lcasant A bevy of 
lovely girls hung on his words, spoke to him in tones 
of affection, looked to him fi)r that peace which is 
more precious to the soul than love. 8ome of them 
called him brother, some again ventured to call him 
John. The leading spirits were bolder still. On the 
lips of Maria Brown, he was either John, or beloved 
John ; on those of Mary Lincoln he was my brother, 
my beloved, and my dearly beloved. 

The preacher of holiness felt that in the presence 
of these seductions he was but a man, and liable to 
fall. These words of love made music in his ear, this 
pressure of soft hands shot warmth into his veins. In 
this tender society his soul was hardly safe. Preacher, 
and \\Qvo of the day, he was the centre of all talk, oif 
all action, of all confidence, among these Saints. 
Every man came to him for counsel. Every woman 
brought him her experience. Every one sought to 
touch liim in the innermost privacy of his heai*t. How 
could he resist that seeking smile, that tender grasp, 
that chaste salute? Noves went into his room and 
locked his door. All night long ho watched and 
prayed. God, as he fancied, came to his Iielp; for in 
the darkness of midnight^ as he lay in his lonely bed, 
a light was given him to see the danger in which he 

FIRST n URaXT district. 230 

<loemcr'R kingdom. These relations were the eonsUint 
theme of her dincoui'soH. Like Ana Lee, the foundress 
of tSliakcrisH), she liehl thait in the day of graee all 
hivo between the male and female must he eliaste and 
holy. Hence she raised up her voiee against wetlloek 
an<l the wedtled rule. She held tliat tlie females must 
not think of love; that the men must not woo them ; 
that the t'hnrdi muHt not eolohrate the nnirriago rite; 
and that those who had already paissed beneath the 
yoke must live as though they had not. 

Most of the women, I am told, fell into Lueina's 
ways of thinking on this subject. No article was 
adopted, for articles were not the fashion in New York. 
Ihit the young farmers and artisans in the burnt dis- 
trict, wlio had thought their course of love running 
smooth enough, were suddenly peqdexcd by coyness 
and reserve on the part of girls who had heretofore 
greeted thenovith ^^miles and kisses. A mob of lasses 
began to dream dreams, to inter|)ret visions, directed 
against love and nuirriage, as love and marri.age were 
understood by an unregenerate world. Some of tlioso 
girls who were old enough to have been engaged, threw 
up their lovers. Younger girls held off fn^m the 
coarser sex. Married women grew dubious as to tlieir 
lino of diity; which doubt and fear led, where the 
husbands happened to bo worldly-minded, into many a 
serious breach of domestic peaice. In fact, these female 
saints liad become so good that the young men of the 
district said they were good for nothing. 

Lucina Umphreville, the cause of so many breaking 
hearts, was generally denounced by the men as Miss 
Anti-marriage. But, like Elderess Antoinetto of 
Mount Lebanon, Lucina Umphreville did not con- 
demn tho male and female saints to live a life apart, 
nnd thus to become absolute strangers to each other. 


Yonnff hcrwolf, and full of lovo for lior kind, she at 
IowimI M>nic [»lay to the hi^Lclicr atfoctioiis, ho long as 
these Hhonhl he exercinetl only in the Lonl. Men aiul 
women might he friends, though she eoulcl not pennit 
them to hecomc lovers and mistresses. Untler Lucina*R 
guidanec, for in these tilings Sheldon himself eonid 
not fight against her, a sweet and perilous privilege 
was assumed hy these New York saints of entering 
into new and mysterious honds of the spirit. In this 
frien<lship of souls the law was to have no vtiice, the 
ilcsh no share ; nude and fenudo were to be brother 
and sister only; they might address each other in 
sacred terms, and gnmt to their beloved the solace of 
a holy kiss. Beyond these freedoms they were not to 
go; and even these sweet privileges were to bo put 
aside on any movement in the heart suggesting an un- 
chaste flesirc. The love was to bo wholly pure and 
free. No law w«a8 ever laid down ; but it was Uicitly 
agreed among the saints that these tender passages of 
soul with soul were not to be made the subject of idle 
tidk. An air of silence and reserve, if not of secrecy, 
was thought to belit so solemn an encounter of spirits ; 
antl every one was expected to guard in his fellow a 
right which he was free' to exercise for himself. So 
intinuite a connection of the nude and female saints 
was likely to bec*ome known by a special and striking 
name. Some one in the Church suggested that this 
new rehition of souls was that of the spiritual husband 
to his spiritiud bride. 

So far as I can see, the name appears to have been 
fii-st used in New York by the Rev. Erasmus Stone, a 
revival preacher at Salina, the famous sidt village lying 
on the shore of Onondaga L;ike. In the early days 
of the revival, Stone had seen a vision of the night. 
A mighty host of men and women filled the sky ; a 


Kiuldeii Bpirit sceiiicil to quicken tliem ; they began to 
move, to cross each other, and to fly hither and thither. 
A great pain, an eager want, were written on their 
faces. Kach man appeared to be yearning for 64>ino 
woman, each woman appeared to be moaning for some 
man. P^very one in that mighty IioHt lunl neemingly 
lost tlie (hing mont precious to his heart. On waking 
from liis slumber. Stone, who had perhaps been read- 
ing riato, told this dream to liis disciples in the sidt- 
W4»rks. When his people asked him f«)r the interpre- 
tation of his dream, he said, that in the present stage 
of being, men and women are nearly always wrongly 
]»aired in marriage; that his vision was tlie day of 
judgment; that the mighty hosts were the risen dead, 
who had started from the grave as they Inid been laid 
down, side by side; that the trouble which liad come 
upon them was the (piick discerning of the spirit that 
they Iiad not been truly juiired on earth; that the 
violent pain and want upon their faces were the desires 
of every soul to find its natund mate. 

Reports of this vision of the night, and of Stone's 
interpretation of it, ran like a prairie-fire through the 
revival camp. Sheldon adopted this idea of a spiritual 
afiinity between man and wonnin ; declaring that this 
spiritual kinship might be found by delicate tests in 
tliis nether world, and that this relation of the sexes 
to each other extends into the heavenly kingdom. No 
long time elapsed before Stone and Sheldon were both 
found putting their doctrine to the proof. In Salina, 
there lived a married wonnm of some beauty and much 
intelligence, named VaWzh Porter, who luid been an 
early convert to lioliness, and a leading member of tho 
Church. Stone had need to see Eliza very often ; for 
they led the pniyer-meetings and nmnaged the eliutvh 
business in common. Stone found in Eliza a IicIih 

V.2 SriniTL'AL WIVES, 

meet in the Lorri ; and as their hearts melted towardu 
each other, they began to find affinities in their sonU 
which they had not imagined. All the members of 
their church perceived and justified the union of these 
two souls. Sheldon, too, discovered thsit he hsid been 
married by mistake to a stranger spirit, one who would 
be happier when she got her release from him, and 
found the original partner of her soul. lie found his 
own second self in Miss Sophia A. Cook, a young un- 
married lad}* living in the lake country. 

Lucina Umphreville held that this sort of friendship 
between male and fcnuile saints in these latter days 
and in the I*erfect Church, was not onlj* allowable in 
itself, but hononiblo alike for the woman and the man. 
St l^nil, she said, had his fonude companion iiv the 
Lord; and it was right for Sheldon, Stone, and Kider 
to have each his female companion in the Lord. The 
Kf^v. Jarvis Kider is said to have taken the young lady 
at her word, and to have jiressed his claim for a share 
in her mystic dreams. True to her creed, the beautiful 
girl entrusted herself in spiritual wedlock to a man 
who very soon proved by his acts that he was unworthy 
to have been trodden beneath her feet ; and the state 
into which she p(M*8cd through this contract with Kider, 
she represented to herself and tootliei*s as the highest 
condition ever to be reached on earth. 

To yoai's atter the convention of Saints iifManliuH, 
a meeting was called at Cunaseraga, also in the burnt 
district, at which Kider and Lucina Umphreville were 
present, as the chief male and female preachers. They 
travelled in company, and held a common testimony 
as to the Lord's doings in their souls. They spoke of 
their affinity for each other; describing the state into 
which they had entered as one of high attainment and 
lasting peace. In this meeting they professed to have 


lin<l), but had not received our doctrines. I found 
thoni projuilii-ed against our views of tlic Second 
Coming and other important teachings of the New 
Haven sclioul; and I preadied what I believed among 
them with niueh zeal and Home contention. Their 
loader, Tertius Strong, succumbed to my reasonings, 
and soon the doetrine of tlie Second Coming, and 
what was called the *Kternal iiromise,* were receivetl 
on all sides with great enthusiasm. I Irft them in the 
midst of their cnthusiaism, and went on my way to 
Vermont. Lovett renminco at Brimfield, and from 
him, and from letters of Mary Lincoln and others, I 
afterwards learned the following facts. 

"Tw(» days after I left, Chauncey E. Dutton arrived 
fnmi Albany. The excitement continued and in- 
ereased. Finally, it turned from doctrines anr. as- 
sumed a social and fanatical form. Several young 
women, who were really leadei*8 of the whole iloek, 
heeame ))artially insane, and began to act strangel}*. 
The disorderly doings that were rej^orted to me were, 
first, the case of ^bundling;* and, second, a wild night- 
excursion of two young women to a mountain near 
tlio village. I had no reason to believe that any act 
of real licentiousness took place; but that the * bund- 
ling* was performed as a bold self-sacriiice for the 
jmrpose of killing shame and defying public opinion. 
I confess that I sympathized to some extent with tlic 
spirit of the first letters that came to me about tliia 
atfair, and sought to shelter rather than condemn tho 
young women who appeaded to me against the storm 
of scandal which they had brought upon themselves. 
But in the sequel, as the irregularities continued and 
passeil on into actual licentiousness, I renounced all 
synipathy witli them, and did my best in subsequent 
years to stamp them out, by word and deed, and suo* 


**I was so iioar being nctnnlly present at this aflair, 
and as liable to be thought responsible tor it, and im- 
plicated in it, tliat I must now tell more particularly 
liow and wliy I left Brimticld. 

**From my first contact with the Massachusetts 
cKuiue at Southampton, I had been aware of a seduc- 
ing tendency to freedom of manners between the 
sexes. Liberties were in common use which were 
seemingly innocent, and were certainl}* pleasant, but 
which I soon began to suspect as dangerous. 

•* At Brimfield there was an extraordinary group of 
pretty and brilliant young women. By my position 
as preacher I was a sort of centre, and they were 
evidently in a progressive excitement over which I 
Ijad no control. I became afraid of them and of mv- 
self At length in my night-studies I got a clear view 
of the situation, and received what I believed to be 
* orders' to withdraw, I left the next morning, alone, 
without making known my intention to any one, 
taking a *bec line' on foot through snow and cold — 
below zero — to Putney, sixty miles distant, which I 
reached within twenty-four hours. Thus I jumped 
off the train in time to escape the smash; and as I 
was not either conductor or engineer, I felt no respou- 
Aibility for it, though I sympathized with the wounded 
and did what I could to help them. 

"I will add to this narrative three letters from the 
package I received from Brimfield soon after the 
catastrophe, to show by specimen the spirit of the 
aftair. The flight to the mountain is described in the 
following letter: — 



*' * Brimfiild, March, 1835. 
*•* Beloved John : — 

*» *I write bccauHO Sister Mary Lincoln dcsiivs nic lo 
relate her Friday cvening*8 adventure, for slio ih not ablo 
to write. During the ai\ernoon of that day nho heart! 
the voiee of Go<i warning her to flee — escape for her life, 
for the judgments of (lod awaited the ]>lace. Her voico 
changed, and she was filled with power. She waited in 
Jiittle Kent (a small village in Hrimflehl) until evening, 
when another dear Rister felt drawn to follow her — Flo* 
villa Howard. Others doubted, thinking her eraxy. Sho 
loft there and came to our house, SiHters Flavilla and 
Ahhy with her. Before she got here she was drawn 
another way, but sho wanted me to accompany her. Sho 
felt that this was against the leadings of the Spirit. I 
was drawn to Sister Mary, but Abby clung to mo and 
wept, saying this would kill her. The dear girls lel\ mo 
and went on, and none of our ftdks were led to go after 
them. Some of the Saints were at our house, but all wero 
jirevented going after them, for some wise i»ur|K)8e. Tho 
night was dark. They went across the meadows through 
water and mud to escape the pursuers (for the ))eoplo 
were in search of her). She felt that the clothes sho had 
with her and those sho had on, were a burden. Sho laid 
them all aside. They then escaped to tho west mountain, 
and when there sho felt that sho received tho wrath of 
(iod, which awaited the people — she suffered fur tho 
saints; but they mado the woods ring with their loud 
hallelujahs to the saint. She then felt willing to return, 
but knew not which course to tiike. It rained, and sho 
had nothing on savo her dress and thin cape, without 
shoes. Sho threw her dress over her head that Sister 
Flavilla might see, and went over rocks, ploughed ground—. 
each step sinking in the mire — through bush, brooks, 
and mud- holes, sometimes carr}*ing her sister, and arrived 


ai a house about a mile dintant from ours at eleven o'clock, 
after travellinir ^ix miles. She returned home in the 
morning, and is now scarcely able to walk. Ilcr friend* 
think her crazj*. The Saints have all turned against us, 
thinking wo are led by the devil. They will turn back 
and Iwgin where they left off when you were here. They 
]>ierco Jckus in us, but how long they will do so I know 
not. 1 will, and can bear it in silence until the Almighty 
Hhuts the mouth of tho vile accusers. Wo hold up the 
liberty of tho kingdom, but they think it of the devil. I 
am not considered crazy, but vile. It is all right, and I 
can say Anien. Maria.' 

*'Mary B. Lincoln, who was really the leader and 
master-spirit in the lirinifield emeute^ was a daughter 
of a respectable physician moving in good society; 
young, beautiful, and attractive. Her Icttera show 
that her spirit was powerful and aspiring enough to 
have made her either an Ann Lee or a Joan of Arc. 
You will observe signs, slight in the first letter, more 
decisive in the second, of the presence of the *who- 
8hall-be*greatest' mania. Mary carried the 1\vLg^ and 
tbouglit she was to bo tlie foremost cliampion of God. 
Her delusions did not pass away. She chose, and 
married Chauncey E. Button. They circulated as 
spiritual leaders in New York and elsewhere for 
a while, and finally became flaming Millerites. I had 
a letter of warning from her, dated March, 1843 call- 
ing on me to prepare for the end of the world. They 
both died long ago.*' 



•• • The AVir Jenuatnm, 

** 'Belovkp, dkarly Bklovkd: — 

" * Alter lilooilin;^, blistoring, iind 8conrf^ing, my 
Ftron^^th in nlinost cxh:iiiHtc(i. Tlio little that rvnniins I 
will dovoto to those who are dearer to me than life. I 
know you love me aiul all the dear people here, and to 
hear tWun any ot tis will bless you, and a few lines from 
me will not be le^K aeeeptablo for being penned with a 
tremblin«x hand. I have l>een very sick. Life ha8 been 
almost extinct in me a number of times. 1 am still weak, 
hut strong enough to declare the eternal victory of the 
spirit that dwelleth within. Though temptations and 
trials of ovcry kind thicken around me, and my spirit has 
ol'ten been weighed down b}' the tears and entreaties of 
those who love me, yet 1 have not been left to deny the 
faithfulness of my Father by retracing a step of the way 
1 have taken. 1 know in whom I have believed. Tho 
everlasting Father has married me to Himself in a cove- 
nant that is str(»nger than death. Satan may rage and 
attem)»t to deceive, but his last mask is on. His time is 

'* * You know not the stir in this place the Lord has 
made thn>ugli Sisters Maria, Flavilla, and mr. The ac- 
cuser pres4'nts himself in every form to us, but he is cast 
down, (-hrist gives power through innocency to bind all 
who douht us, and there are none hero who do not doabu 
I am blessed with speaking boldly about the work in my 
own soul. I have no mock humility that will lead mo to 
secrete any of my Father's kindness to mo or any of His 
dear children. I am not afraid or ashamed to receive tho 
sons of (lod into my bosom, and love them before the 
world, pleading for tho insulted, injured spirit of our Fa- 
ther in them. It is not enough that we speak for God in 
Jesus or Brother Paul. The devil would love to have us 
fttop here; but it is for mo to stand by Brothers John, 
^imon, and Cbauncey, and throw my arms round lovely 


Maria and Flavilln, tho Hwoet an^el that fornook all to go 
with mo into tlio mountain I SiKtcr Maria ha« related 
this trial to yon. My Father led mo t'lero to be orneified. 
I am not ashamed of it , neither does it how me down. Tho 
victory He has ^iven mo since ex coeds all that I hel'oro 
experienced. I see a great deal of company, testifying 
almost unceasingly. All arc bound before me. Smith, 
the Universalist of Hartford, called to seo mo. Had 
sweet libert}' in talking. Ho is a sweet little sinner, and 
I very affectionately told him who his father was [i. e, 
the devil]. Ho thought me a wonder. 

•* 'The Saints hero wear very long faces. Fear has taken 
hold of them — thp fear to cross tho lives of wicked, vilo 
men. I feel that the Lord will lead His children to cross 
them, and so upset the polluted government of our nation; 
bnt if (lod has ordained otherwise, I shall rejoice. Gladly 
would I ho anything and everything that I might win 
souls. He has prepared mo to stand unawed before 
assembled millions, to tell tho simple story of a dying 
Saviour's love, shedding tho same tears that our elder 
Brothers shed over Jerusalem. But if God has declared 
war. we will say yl mm. Eighteen hun<lred years ago, G04I 
8ai«l, " 'Tis peaco on earth ;" but men have dared to throw 
the lie into the great Jehovah's face. His long-suffering 
we adore, and if His justice cuts off the wicked noWj the 
eternal region shall sing with our hallelujahs to it. Amen, 
Amen. Mauy.' 


•• • Mount Shn, Eternity. 

" 'My Brother: — 

"•Your spirit being tho only ono in tho clay in 
which mine finds rest, you will not think it strange that 
1 write you so soon again. My soul goes out after some 
mighty spirit in which it may hide itself a while from the 
storm. Through tho kindness of our Father, many and 
mighty are my trials just now. Tho dovil never spited 


me a« lio now docR, for I 8ee liis art, and f«*ar not to iinmu^k 
liim. 1 have 8ccn the man of ein rovcaloil in the Pcrfec- 
tionif«t^ in the building up of tlic Jewish tom|iK\ and 
inosl nianilVHt whore it.H adorning is niont lovidy. In it 
not sf)? IlaH not <iod laid it even with the dust, and can 
aiit^lit hilt Satan ndMiihl it? Han not (lod pronounced a 
woe upon it? And nhall not we, IliH children, nay Awenf 
I hiill try the SaintH here. They 8ay that I nm taking 
htep!) that another has not. 1 know that my Ht«>i»H in the 
de^^^ert are not in the Hand \ and if the Lord leads mo in 
untrodden pathtf, 1 Bhall go praising tho God of liirucl 
who is my guide. 1 feel that lie has led mo past all but 
yuu, for He will not permit me to have fellownhip with 
any other, but Htrengthcns me with communion with tho 
h])irit8 of tho air. Yes, my brother, soon (jod in mo will 
htand in front of tho battle. He is mastering my atrcngth 
hy 11 is burning love to war with holTs blackest fur}\ (lod 
has shown mo hy His wisflom, that bj' the artlessnemi of 
females the armies of the aliens would be put to flight, 
and tho victory won. Go<l has chosen weak things to 
confound tho wise. Through Kvo tho war began; through 
Kvcs it is continued ; through them it will bo closed, and 
a declaration of Eternal Independence made to the joy of 
all who iii<;n it. You see '* I am for war.'* God has armed 
me in a manner that the world thinks does not bocomo a 
once timid female; but according to the gill I now reeeivo, 
I Ui'L When it pleases my Father to make me more lovely, 
I shall bo pleased to ho so. I feel that His work, through 
me, will be short and mighty. My s]»irit is becoming too 
]M>werful for its habitation. 1 stand almost ahuio here. 
Many doubt me, and yet (tod has given me power over 
all tho Saints. I have as much liberty in meeting, and 
urn as much at homo as in my father's kitchen. Tho last 
one that I was at, the Lord led me and Sister Maria, and 
Samuel T. to walk the floor, sing " Woe, woo to Babylon," 
and talk and laugh as much as we had a mind to. It was 
a trial to some of them, but they could not help themHeWcs. 
Tho Lord gave me 2>ertect power over them all in so 


doing. I told (hem I 8hould talk nil night, if the Lord led 
mc to. Most of thorn arc following after; God is leading 
them into the truth, yd they do not know it. Deaeon 
Tnrhell ift mueh blessed, Sister Hannah is very sweet, and 
Sister Maria is very strong and bold. Mary.' 

"To coiDplctc the history of the Brinifield nftuir, I 
will add that, besides sending its seeds into New 
York, it was partially repro<ln(»ed in New Haven. 
Lovett and Duttoii eireulated there; and spiritual 
mating Inid its run there, as at Brinitield and else- 
where. Whether there was any bundling, I eannot 
say; I never resided in New Haven, exeept on occa- 
sional visits, after I left with Lovett in 1835. Eliza- 
beth Ilawlej*, who was in the midst of the New Haven 
intrigues, says in a letter to me, ^8imon Lovett first 
brought the doctrine of Spiritual Wifehood among 
New Haven Perfectionists, after his bundling with 
Mary Lincoln and Mariu Brown at Brimtield. He 
claimed Abby Fowler (a very estimable young woman 
of New Haven) as his spiritual wife, and got her. She 
died not long atter of consumption. Simon then mar- 
ried Abby Brown, sister of Maria, at Brimfield. Ter- 
ens Fowler, brother of Abby, married Miss Tarbell of 
Brimficldy under the idea that she was -his Spiritual 
Wife/ John U. Noybs." 




IjlUOM the Ai\y on wliicb the New York SaintA 
. 8oii«rht fellowship with their New Kngland friends, 
the spirit of Mnry Line(»ln and Maria Brown appears 
to have pawned into the cohler cltihlren of Lueina Um- 
phrovillc, and even into that projdieteM herself. 

Mary Lincoln, on recovering from her sickness, 
I fame int(» the theory of Spiritual husbands and Spir* 
itual wives, as this theory had been taught from Salina 
hy tlie Kev. Erasmus Stone. She found, however, 
that the Kev. Chauncey Dutton, not tlie Kev. Stmou 
liovett, tlie hero of her Brindield scandal, was lier 
natural nu\te. Hand in hand Marv and Dutton truv- 
riled through the country, staying with tlioso who 
would receive them, preaching to such as would como 
and hear. Thoy affected to tnivel as they said St. 
Paul had travelled with liis female comforter. The 
pnssiouH, which were condemned in all men, were in 
tlirir own persons cruciKed and dead. But in the 
v\\\\ these hot reformers of a carnal world came under 
lM»nds so far as to be duly married in the church. 

Maria Brown went over to New York; where she 
j^ought the friendship and guidance of Lueina Urn- 
phrcville, and kept herself free from many of the 
delusions into whieii her old friends and neighbors 
fell. The Rev. Jarvis Rider, parting from his Shaker- 
like hride, found in a nuirried sister, the wife of Tlumuis 
Chapman, of Bridgeport, on Oneida Lake, u woman 


of yet closer Hi»iritiiu] utKniticH to himseir. Mrs. 
Chapman was a young nn<l pretty woman, who was 
liked by every one for her charming ways and her 
kindncHH of heart. An early convert to holiness, site 
had always been a pillar of the church, and her house 
had been open at all times to the Saints. When Maria 
Brown came on a visit to the Lake district, Mi*s. 
Chapman invited her to stay at Bridgeport; and not 
only Maria Brown, but Lucina Umphreville, together 
with the Uev. Jarvis iJider and the Rev. Charles 
Lovett. Chapmain, her legal husband, being engaged 
in digging the Chenango Canal, was a good deal from 
home; but he felt such confidence in his fellow-saints, 
that he gave them perfect liberty in his house. Ili<lcr 
took advantage of this confidence to persuade Mrs. 
Chapman that she was his second self, his natural 
mate, and his destined bride in the future world. On 
finding such a pretension raised, Lucina Umphreville 
not only gave up all her own claims on Rider, but sanc- 
tioned, as it seems, the pleas which he had now put 
forth to a special claim (»n the soul of Mrs. Chapman. 
The woman, persuaded by her clerical guests, con- 
sented to accept the position of Rider's spiritual wife. 

In like nmnner, the Rev. Charles Lovett proposed a 
spiritual union with Lucina; when the wonian who 
hati been deserted by Rider gave herself away into a 
second, an<l a happier heavenly match. 

Maria Brown s;it by, alone, content to be alone. 

When Thomas Chapman came home from his labor 
on the canal, and heard what had been done in his 
absence by these Saints, he knocked the Rev. Jarvis 
Rider down, kicked him black and blue, and thrust 
him out into the lane. His rage was violent, but its 
force soon died away. How he became reconciled to 
the preacher of Spiritual wifehood I cannot pretend 



to jiay. Men, wlio do not sccin to mc crazy, tell mo 
that Chapman, when he raised his hand against tho 
revival preacher, was stricken blind ; not in a mystical 
lind moral sense of the word, but that he really and com- 
pletely lost his sigliU One man tells mc that Cha|>* 
man went to New York to consult an oculist, and did 
not recover the use of his eyes for many months. In 
this affliction he begged the reverend gentleman's 
]»anlon, caUcd him back into the house, and threw 
liinisclf on the Hoor in agonies of shame l<>r having 
ilarcd to assert his carnal mind in opposition to tlio 
will of God. Still, when his eyes were better, lie got 
rid of his saintly guests, left the place of his shame, 
and sopanited from his wife. Kidcr forgot his afKnity 
for the cast-away wife, and Mrs. Chapman being a 
woman of delicate constitution, this strite between her 
husband in tho flesh and her partner in the spirit, put 
an end to her life. 

In the meantime, Noyes had been quietly preparing 
to launch on the worUl his own theory of Spiritual 
wifehood. In his sermons he Iiad often hinted his 
dislike to the present system of legal marriage, and 
of family life, as not being sanctioned by the Holy 
Spirit. At length he put the germ of his system into 
a letter, dated January 15, 1837« and addressed to 
David Harrison, of Meriden, in Connecticut A copy 
of this epistle fell into the hands of Theophilus U. 
Gates, of Philadelphia, who was then editing Tlie 
BattU'Axe; and in this periodical, the letter now 
known as the Battle-Axe Letter, and which claims to 
be the Magna Cbartii of Pauline Socialism, first saw 
the light of day. 



the battle-axe letter. 

"Dkar Brother: — 

"Though the vinion tarry long, wait; it will come, 
1 need not tell you why I have delayed writing bo long, 
and why 1 am in the name circuniHtances as when we were 
together. 1 thank God that I have the name confideneo 
lor you as myself. I have fully discerned the beauty, 
and drank the 8]iirit, of IIabakkuk*s rcHolution, * Although 
the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit bo in the 
vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall 
yield no meat; the flock shall bo cut off from the fold, 
and there shall be no herd in the stalls: yet I will rejoice 
in the Lord, 1 will joy in the CJod of my s.'ilvation.' Yea, 
brother, I tciU rejoice in the Lord, *though He slay me, yet 
will I trust in Him. The jircsent winter is doubtless a 
time of soro tribulation to nuiiiy. 1 see the Saints laying 
off and on like the distressed ships at the ontnineo of 
JNew York harbor, waiting for pilots; and I would ad* 
viso them all, if I could, to make a bold push, and 'run 
in' at all events. 

" For one, 1 have passed the Hook — my soul is moored 
with an anchor sure and steadfast — the anchor of hope; 
and I am willing to do what I can as a pilot to others: 
yeii, 1 will lay down my life for the brethren. 

••As necessity is the mother of invention, so it is the 
mother of fuith. 1 therefore rejoice in the necessity 
which will ere long work full confidence in Ciod, such cun- 
tidencc as will permit Him to save His people in a waiy 
they have not known! In the meantime my faith is 
growing exceedingly. I know* that the things of which 
w*e communed at New Haven will bo accomplished. Of 
the times and seasons 1 know nothing. During my resi- 
dence at Newark my heart and mind were gi*eatly en- 
larged. I bad full leisure to investigate the prophecies, 
and came to many conclusions of like imiK>rtance to those 
which interested us at New Haven, The substance of all 


iH. that CtiA \n nl»oiit t<» ^ot a throno on lli« foolBtool, ami 
lifHvcn uikI oartli, /. t\ all 9)>iriiiia2 and political cl^-naMtieii, 
^ill floe away tVoin tliu raceof ilim that shall sit thereon. 
Tlio ri^litoous will ho Hoparatoil Ti^om tho wicked hy the 
opening of tho lM>okA and the toNtimony of tho saintM. 
*Tlie hoiiKo of Jacob shall bo a tiro, and tho honso of Jom*ph 
a Hanio, and tho Iiouho of Knau for stubble. . . . Suviouni 
hitall oonio up on Mount Zion (o jud^o tho mount of Knau ; 
and tlio kinix'loin shall bo the /^>r</V.' — Obadiah, IH, 21. 
JWtwecn thirt proMont time and tho ostablishnient of (lod'n 
kingdom over tho earth, lies a chaos of confusion, tribula- 
tion, woo, etc., such aK must attend the destruction of tho 
fashion of this KorU, and tho intnxluction of tbo will of 
Goil as it is done in heaven. 

'* For the present, a long race and a hard warfare i« 
l>eforo tho saints, i. f., an ojiportunity and demand for 
faith — one of the most precious commodities of heaven. 
Only let us lay fast hold of tho Iio^h) of our calling ; let us 
hct tho Loixl and Ills glory always boforo our face, and 
wo shall not bo moved. I thank God that you have fully 
known my manner of life, faith, ]»ur|><ise, aflHctious, etc., 
to (ho end that you may rest in tho day of troublo; for I 
hay to you before (lod, that though I be weak in Christ I 
know I shall live by tho power of God toward you and nil 
saints. I am holden up by tho strength that is needed to 
Kiistain not my weight only, but tho weight of all who 
shall come after me. I will w*rito all that is in my heart 
<»n one delicate subject, and you may judge for yourself 
whether it is expedient to show this letter to others. 
When tho will of God is done on earth as it is in heaven,? 
there will be no marriage. Tho marriage-supper of tho 7 
Lamb is a feast at which ever}' dish is ^ree to every guest, 
K.\elusivencss, jealousy, quarrelling, havo no place there, 
lor tho same reason as that which forbids tho guests at a 
thanksgiving dinner to claim each his separate dish, and 
quarrel with tho rest for his rights. In a holy community 
there is no more reason why sexual intercourse should be 


\'f restraineil by law, than why eating and drinking should 
\ he; and there is as little oceamon for phame in the one 
cuHo aH in the other. God ha^ phiccd a wall of partition 
between the male and female during the apostasy for 
go<Kl reasons, whieh will be broken down in the resurree- 
tion for equally good reasons; but woe to him who abol- 
ishes the law of apostasy before he stands in the holiness 
of the resurrection. The guests of the marriage-supper 
may have each his favorite dish, each a dish of his own 
procuring, and that without the jealousy of exclusiveness. 
1 call u certain woman my wife; she is yours; she is 
Christ's; and in Him she is the bride of all saints. She 
is dear in the hands of a stranger, and according to my 
promise to her I rejoice. My claim upon her cots directly 
across the marriage covenant of this world, and God knows 
the end. ' Write, if you wish to hear from me. 

"Yours in the Lord." 

The publication of this document made a noise in 
the Church hardly less loud than the Brimfield affair 
had mode in the world : the fruits of it are found at 
Wallingford and Oneida Creek. 




ALL tlioRC members of the PauIuio Clinrcli, and 
nearly nil these advocates of Spiritual wifehood, 
protend to find some sanction for their doctrine in the 
teacliin«r and the jiractico of St Paul, They say St 
Paul had felt that mystic companionship of nnile and 
foniale in the Lonl which Lucina Umphreville made 
known to the Saints of New York, which Father 
Novcs Inis carried out in his Bible Families at Wal- 
lin<rf<>nl and Oneida Oreck, and which Warren Chaco 
describes as the only bond uniting a spiritual husband 
to a spiritual wife. 

Paul, it is commonly said, was not a married man; 
not married, that is, in the carnal sense before tho 
law; yet he would seem, from his own epistle to the 
saints at Corinth, to have been accompanied on Iiia 
journey by a woman who was a daily helper in his 
work. In terms which no one has yet been able to 
explain away, and which, since all our churches are 
drawing more and more upon the Pauline writinga, 
tlicy hold that men should try to understand, St Paul 
aftinned his right to the fellowship of this female 
partner against those cynics and scorners in tho infant 
church who made his personal conduct matter of 
reproach. What was this woman's relation to St« 
I^aul? Was she his wife? Was she one who stood 
to him in the place of a wifet Was she as a sister 
only? The Greek word (1 Cor. ix. 6) by which the 


apostle nnmes lier — gynatka — means either wife or 
woman, like the French \von\ femme^ and the German 
vronl/rrti*. Kn)m the earliest times in which critics 
wrote, men have heen divided in opinion as to the 
sense in which the term aJelphen gynaika was used hy 
l^iul. Clement of Alexandria seems to have assumed 
that Paul would not have taken a female companion 
with him on his travels unless she had heen his wife. 
TertuUian, on the other side, asserts that the woman 
who went about with him was not his wife, but a holv 
sister, who travelled with him fmm place to place, 
doing just that kind of work in the early Church 
which only a woman can effect Which is the truth? 

AH critics conclude, for the text is plain so far, that 
Paul and Barnabas claimed the privilege of keeping 
the company of certain holy women, with whom they 
appear to liave lodged and lived. That the connec- 
tion between these men and women was, in their own 
belief, free from blame, no one will doubt; but the 
facts which must have placed this connection beyond 
the reach of honest, open censure, are not so clear. 
One word from Paul to the eilect that the parties 
were married would have silenced every tongue; but 
Paul did not speak, and did not write that wonl. 
What, then, are we to infer from his silence? The 
loud voice of antiquity asserts that Paul was a single 
man. Paul himself tells us that he was accompanied, 
and had a right to bo accompanied, by a female friend. 
AVhat then ? 

The early Fathers of the Church had to meet a 
question which most of our writers on St. Paul have 
agreed to shirk. Hilary and Theophylactus, writing 
in distant countries and distant periods, describe the 
two apostles, Paul and Barnabas, as being attended by 
rich ivomen, whom they had converted, and whose 


duty it wns^ to cook for tliom and comfort them, as 
well as to carry the gospel light into the harems of 
princes and wealthy persons. This view, I think, is 
that adopted hy the Church. Clement hinitfcif, though 
ho says these women were married to the Apostles, 
seoins to think that they went ahout with tlicir apos- 
tolic hushands, not as wives in i!ie tiesh, but as sisters 
in the spirit. Thus we are driven back upon the text, 
which tells us little, and on the biographers of Paul, 
who tell us less. 

Our usual renderings of the Greek term, hy which 
St. Paul denotes this partner of his toils, extend the 
meaning so as to make him describe the connection as 
chaste and holy. Thus, the Latin Vulgate makes St^ 
I*aul speak of his partner as mnlierem 9ororem^ a form 
which has been copied with only slight variations into 
many tongues. The Italian version gives it as donna 
9oreUa ; the Brussels version reads, un^. femme qui $oit 
notre scpur (en) Jesus Christ; tlie French Protestant 
version, une femme (Ventre nos soeurs; the Spanish ver- 
sion, una muger hermana ; the Portuguese, huma mulher 
inti(l. Luther renders the woixl hy eine Schcester zum 
Weibe. Our Knglish versions lean to the same con- 
clusion. Wycliife translates gynaika *'a womman, a 
sister;'* Tyndal, *'a sister to wife;" the Genevans, "a 
wife being a sister; " and the authorized translators, 
"a sister, a wife." But this has not been always done. 
Some of the earliest and some of the latest writers on 
St. Paul have taken the other sense; reading the Greek 
text as tliey would have read any other, by plain and 
open rules. Clement of Alexandria classes Paul with 
Peter and Philip as the three married apostles; 
Conybeare translates adelphen gynaika into ^' a believ* 
ing wife," and Stanley into "a Christian woman as ft 


The Pauline clniivlies of Mas.sacliusetts and New 
York have icMnul an easy way tiiron^h what )ia8 
provetl 8o hard a path to rtchohim in Europe and Asia. 
They pretend tliat St. Paul lived witli the woman wlio 
travelled with him in grace, and not in law; in a word, 
that he was to her a spiritual hunband, that she wag 
to him A spiritual wife. 

Is it not strange that a thousand and one writers on 
the life of St. l*aul should have sliirked this deeply 
interesting question of his relation to his female com- 
panion ? Yet this !8 the singular fact. Conybearc 
and IIowsou have not a word to say about it ; Whitby 
has an unmeaning note, in which he ssiys that either 
Paul had a wife, or Barnabas had a wife, or one of 
tliese Ajiostlcs might have had a wife, since no law 
forbade him to marry if he had so pleased. The 
writers in Smith's Bible Dictionary, and in Kitto's 
Kncyclopjedia of Biblical Literature, are equally re- 
8crve<l. Is this strange silence wise ? What is to be 
gained for the Church by clouding this central fact in 
the great Apostle's life If 

The Saints of New York find the same sort of 
Spiritual love between men and women in the Agapa*, 
those Feasts of Love which are so frequently mentioned 
both by friends and enemies of the early Church. 

Hardly any nubject connected with the planting of 
Christianity is obscured by darker clouds than the 
origin and history of the Agapie ; yet enough, they 
urge, is known to prove that the Feasts of Love 
were the results of a new sympathy having been 
introduced by the Church into the relations of sex 
and sex. 

The}* say the social order founded in Judea was, in 
part at least, communistic ; the religious order being 
made to complete, and perhaps to supersede, that old 


political and clomc«tic order which admitted of private 
property and personal wives. Life in the Church wa« 
ofltTOflVor acceptance as a higher form of Bpiritnal 
porfoctncss than life in tiic family ; a proiiosition which, 
being assunied an<l granted, it is easy to urge that the 
terms brother and sister in the faith expressed a nobler 
relation than those of husband and wife. 

It is safe to say that no such doctrines can be found 
in either the Sermon on the Mount or any other 
teaching of our Lord, except so far as the commands 
to love (Mie another, to give alms to the poor, to speak 
well of all men, to prefer the gifts of heaven to those 
of earth, and to bear all things for the meek and 
lowly, can be made to look like communism. These 
Pauline churches urge, that it is clear, from the doe- 
trine taught by the Apostles after Pentecost, ttmt ttiese 
young reformers thought good to abolish private proji- 
erty in favor of the church, and that for a while, in a 
narrow zone, they met with some success. **Tho 
earth,*' they said, '* is the LonVs." In the old times 
man had held his property in trust, but the trust was 
ended, since the Lord had come in person to possess 
His own. All moneys were to becotne as the sacred 
shekel, which men could no longer use for their privato 

Most of these young reformera of family life had 
been pupils of the Kssenes before they became believ- 
ers in our Lord; of those Essenes who had dwelt in 
ravines of the wilderness, in dry and desert places, 
among the limestone rocks above Jericho and Engedi; 
and who not only held strange doctrines as to love 
and marriage, but taught that all the children of God 
should feed from the same store, and have all their 
goods in common. John the Baptist had lived among 
these Essenes and learned their doctrine. Peter, John, 



and Andrew, yonn^ men from Capornanm, who 
becsime founders of Jewish Christianity, had been the 
Baptist's hearers. An Essenic spirit disphiyed itself 
in every act of the infant Church ; the Apostles taking 
that counsel of our Lord to a rich man tempted by his 
M'ealth, *^ If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou 
liast and give to the poor, and thou slialt have treasure 
in heaven," as a rule for all. In their eyes, private 
wealth was not only a snare to the soul, — such as 
love, rank, beauty, jiowcr, health, in fact any earthly 
good, miglit become in its abuse, — but a thing stolen 
from God, and consequently accursed in itself, and 
incompatible with a holy life. Therefore, say the 
brethren of Mount Lebanon, and the Bible families of 
Oneida Creek, the Apostles put it down. Did they 
nlso meddle with the relations of man and wife? The 
American saints say boldly, yes; they introduced, iu 
tlieir Agapro, that spiritual wedlock which is now 
being revived in the Christian Church. 



WHAT were those Agapre? Were they, as the 
heathen said, but a new form of idolatry, a faint 
image of the banquets held by the Q reeks in honor 
of their gods ? 

Wo hear that they were social gatherings of the 
fiiitbful, who met either in eacii other's houses, wlicn 
they were rich, or in such chapels and synagogues as 
they could then connnan<l. We know that they were 

attended l»y men and women, and that the male and 
female Niint« had the privilege of Hahiting each other 
with a holy k'nw. We know that these meetings were 
festive; that they were enlivened by singing and 
|ilaving; that they were called indifferently Feasts of 
Love and Feasts of Charity ; and that they bore in 
their outward form only too close a resemblanec to 
some of those Pagan rites, of no decent origin, in 
which nnniy of the converts had been trained. The 
song, the feast, and the fraternal kiss, lent ready hints 
for a Pagan sneer ; an<l the Aga|>:c were ridicnled by 
|»liilosojihcrrt and eyni<*s, long before the day arrived 
for their suppression by an outraged Church. 

Of course, in judging the Agapie it is not right that 
we slicMild follow the many accusations of their (ien- 
tile Iocs. If much was said against them by heathen 
writers, much was offered in their defence by the 
(ircek Fathers. Tertullian, Felix, Origen, stood by 
them, first and last; champions of whom any canso 
might well be proud. Yet, the main facts on record 
nhont them remain. They foil away from their 
purity; they took a Pagan Uiint; the fraternal kisd 
became carnal ; in speech, if not in conduct^ they 
incurred the suspicion of licentiousness; and the 
Cliurch, though she covered them against assaults. 
JVoni without, had in the long run to put them down, * 
in order to preserve her own good name. 

What was the cause, what the occasion, of this sup- 
pression by tlio Church of a feast which many persona 
connected very closely with the Last Supper? 

At first, there can be no doubt that these Agapce 
wore free from offence. It is true that tlicy had been 
conceived in a communistic spirit; that they sought 
to place the life of a believer above the life of a non* 
believer; and to absorb the sentiment of home in the 


Bentimcnt of tlic Church. The gathering of the faith- 
ful was to supersede the gathering of the tribe. Din- 
ner was to rise into u sacrament; and the feast of the 
brethren was to take the place previously occupied by 
the family meal. Brethren and sisters in the Lord 
were to meet in either the guest-room of the house or 
in the aisle of the church; they were to spread out 
the meats and drinks w*hich they had brought with 
them ; the}* were to sing a hymn of praise and joy 
togetlier; they were then to call in the poor, the lame, 
and the old ; they were to sit down at table, rich and 
l>oor, healthy and sick, together; they were to tell 
each other of the Lord*s doings in their own souls; 
they were to call for lamps when the night came 
down ; they were to wash hands, and to kiss each 
other, male and female, with a holy kiss. The feast 
was to begin w*ith psalms and end with prayer. 
" This Love-feast," said Tertullian, '* is a support of 
love, a solace of purity, a check on riches, a discipline 
of weakness.*' In the early days of our religion, this 
praise was undoubtedly well acquired ; for the Agapai 
did some good that could hardly have been achieved 
by any other means. They made men act like breth- 
ren. They brought a spirit of practical friendship 
into the new society ; and set a permanent pattern of 
equality in the presence of Go<l. What more they 
did, of a kind which the Church could not iimilly in- 
dorse, is matter of suspicion only. It would seem to 
have been understood that the bi*ethren and sisters in 
these Agapee were bound together by a closer tie than 
that which had previously linked the members of an 
ordinary Jewish and Pagan household; though the 
new bond of union was pndmbly recognized in a 
mystical rather than in a carnal sense. 
These feasts were held on three occasions, if not 

T/iK A(;AI\E, 277 

on luore, — the celebi*ution of a inarria^o, the boIciii- 
nity of u funeral, the anniversary of a martyrdom. 
In the first and second cases, thej* were given in pri- 
vate homes; in the third case, either in the church, 
or in the precincts of a cliurch. The first waa gay, 
the second serious, the third hotli. In all there were 
eating, drinking, singing, kissing. In the Love-feasta 
kept in honor of the martyrs, a peculiar sentiment 
was developed; for all tlie Saints who took part in 
them ivere niysticadly supposed to become of one kiii- 
<lred in the Lord ; brothers and sisters, standing tcv 
wards each other in closer relation than those of or- 
(linarv husbands and wives. 

Soon, too soon, these meetings fell into abuse. The 
holy kiss became a cover for unholy thoughts, and 
'the feast in which every one wais to break bread with 
his fellow, declined into a licentious orgy. In vain* 
the Church essayed to stem the liberty of fraternal 
kissing, and to crush the excesses in meat and wine. 
An old rule, preserved for us in Athenagonia, laid it 
down, that if any convert should kiss a woman a sec- 
ond time, because he found it pleasant, the act was 
sin. The chaste salutiition, it was said, should be 
given with the greatest care ; for if any impure 
thought was in the heart, while the lips were pressed, 
the kiss became adultery, and put the soul in peril of 
eternal fires. Athenagorais quotes this rule together 
with the gloss upon it from Holy Writ, in which they 
are not to be found. Perhaps they figured in some 
lost writing, which the Greek Church desired to im- 
{K)8e on the people as of equal authority with Holy 
Writ. The rule itself implies a change of manners, 
and its citation in a formal detence of Christian prac- 
tice, hints the general suspicion in which the Agapie 
had then come tu be held, at least in U recce. 

278 sriniTCAL wivi:s. 

lliiw, indeed, could thcj*e Kea.'^ts of Love escape 
Buspicioii, when men who hud been worshippers of 
Bual and Aphrodite came into union with the saints? 
In the templefl of Corinth and Antioch, these men and 
women had been familiar from their youth with se- 
ductive and immoral rito.^; the ohl leaven seems to 
have forced itself into the new societies; and even 
while the Apostles yet liveil, those evils had begun to 
ji{»pear, which at a later period compelled the reform- 
ing leailei's to prohibit the celebration of Love-feasts 
in the (/hureh. St. Paul complained to his friends of 
Corinth, that in these Agapie they gorge and drink, 
while they neglect to invite the i>oor. One sees from 
liis anger, that in (ireece the converts kept to their 
liabit of indulging in the old Sophist's supper, on 
jiretenee of holding the Love-feast of a new dispen- 
sation. St. Peter and St. Jude, as well as St. Paul, 
]»roclaimed the abuses to which the Agaprc had al- 
ready given rise in their day. 

But the abuse of a dear privilege, say the American 
Saints, does not imply its abandonment for ever. If 
the Feast of Love were good in the Apostolic times, 
it must be so in every age which shall resemble the 
Apostolic tunes. God loves and rewards llis chil- 
dren according to the measure of their virtue. 
That which is wrong in a state of nature may be 
perfectly right iu a state of grace* 




ATIAGK for special aixl uiilawrnl friciidsliips be- 
tween the male and ieniale saiiitA had been loii^ 
familiar to sa^^e American pastors, as one of the bad 
growths to he expected in the revival ticld. I shall 
cite two little histories of this passion. 

The first story is that of Elder Moore. 

Elder Moore, of Spring Street Church, in New York 
city, a shining light among the Presbyterian flock, in 
speaking of his religious trials to George Cragin, of 
the New York Moral Reform Society, described the 
ertect of his ghostly wrestlings with repentant sinners 
on his own atlections. One of Moore's penitents was 
a young lady named Miss Harding, the daughter of 
rich and \vorldly people, who had brought lier up to 
the enjoyment of music, dancing, comedies, dinnera, 
dress, and horses. On these pixssing vanities her mind 
was fixed, to the grievous peril of her immortal soul. 
By chance she became a visitor in his class ; her nmn- 
ner pleased him ; and he felt his heart yearn soAly 
towards the rich and lovely girl. At the close of his 
exercises she was deeply moved ; she seemed to bo 
asking in her silence for a little help. Taking her 
hand in his, Moore said to her: **If you go on, I will 
help you in m}' prayers.*' From that moment she had 
a place in his thoughts, from which she could not be 
driven away. Her name was on his lips when he rose, 
und when he lay down. A tender bond grew up be* 


tweon tliein, for when he strove with Oo<l on licr 
behalf, a feclinjo^ sprung into his heart akin to that 
wliidi he felt a man nujst have for a sister, for a spouse. 
Being a single man, Moore led in the great eity a 
lonely and gloomy life. Cnigin met him one day in 
the street, and seemg him ra<liant with unusual joy, 
accosted him. "She has triumphe<l!" said the elder. 
*'llavc you seen lier, then?*' asked Crjigin, who 
thought his friend uidikely to have ventured to her 
house. "No," said Moore. "Heard from her?*' 
"Xot one word," he answered with a smile; "but I 
am sure that what I say is true." That night a meet- 
ing wa« held for prayer in Spring Street Church, to 
wliich Miss Harding came, and told him tl»c story 
of her call. As she dwelt on the struggles in her 
soul — through which she had passed to victory, 
Cragin smile<I ; her tale was a j^erfect copy of wliat 
lie had been told in the street by Moore. For the 
moment these two persons had been <b*awn together 
so close, that they seemed to have but one nervous 

Moore professed to have liad many such passages 
of the Spirit; this dark and celibate man, unlovely 
in liis person and his life, enjoying a glorious sense 
of celestial bridals with a host of fair and penitent 
women. One day a peculiar feeling came upon him, 
for which nothing, either in the circumstances or 
in his state of mind, could fairly account. Tlie 
Lonl's Su|>per was being observed in Spring Street 
Church, and as one of the elders he was engaged, in 
distributing the bread and wine. More than the 
?i8ual crowd were present, for several young men and 
women, newly brought in, were to take their first 
sacrament that day. As he moved about the church, 
he became conscious of a singular swelling in bis 


heart. His pulse licat cjuicker, h\A eyo» opoiied witlor. 
All tlirou^h the inorninir lie li:ul Itoeii liappy in hin 
\V(>rlv, nn<l blensed with a <loliei()(i8 gense of peace. 
Why was he now clisturl>e<I with 80 8tnin«;o a joy? 
lie longed to enibnice the brethren; to throw him- 
self into the sisters' annn. He felt a strange love for 
the young girls who were kneeling at his feet, and 
taking fnini his fingei*s the bread and wine. This love^ 
he knew, was like the love whieh he felt for liis hea- 
venly Fatlier. It sprang from the earth, but it knew 
no taint of sin. lie felt that, in a mysti'^al waj', every 
one of these tair penitents was to him, in that moment, 
as a sister and a spouse. 

That day's experience of the Loiirs Supper set the 
elder thinking on the love which is symbolized by 
bread and wine, and wondering wliether a time would 
ever come when these symbols would be replaced by 
another type. 

The second story is that of the Uev. John IJ. Foot. 

Foot, a young nnm of high pmmise, had been tor 
some time a student of AVilliam's College, Williams- 
town, Massachusetts, when the tierce revival of 1832 
broke out; and Dr. Griflin, a preacher of cxtmnr- 
tlinary force, who came to labor among the college 
l)Upils, had set liis lieart on fire. Foot was converted 
to a sense of liis lost condition. Eight or ten of bis 
companions answered, like himself, to the preacher'a 
call; they met for prayer in their own rooms; they 
held fortli in public; they cpiitted the college, without 
waiting to complete their course ; they began to travel 
about the country, calling on the people to flee from 
the wrath to come. Gifted with powers of speecb. 
Foot became a shining light in the city street, and in 
the forest camp ; few of the young revival preachers 

having more to say, or knowing better how to fire the 
" 24 ♦ 

2J12 sriRirrAL wives. 

souls of sheplionlA and woodnten. On the wild skirta 
of Ohio, amon^ tlie rude squattern in the backwood, 
he made for himself a name of note. Growing in 
grace as lie grew in years, he became a convert to 
Hiram Sheldon's <loctrine of salvation from sin, and 
to the social theory which seems to have been con- 
nected in every uuin*« mind with that doctrine of the 
final establishment of heaven on earth. The Kev, 
Charles Mead, his frien<l and fellow-preacher, \vent 
along with him in his course; rousing the rough 
squatters into fcrx'or, and calling down the blessings 
of all good men upon their work. 

Six years after this conversion to holiness, the two 
reverend gentlemen, Foot and Mead, being out in 
what was then the Far West, paid a visit to Foot's 
married sister, a woman who was working with them 
in the spirit. Mead and this lady soon discovered 
that they were spiritual pairs, mated to each other 
from the beginning of time; a secret which they 
revealed to Foot and to the lady's husband ; both of 
whom fell on their knees and prayed for light in this 
new peril which had come upon their laith. The cup 
was very bitter, the rod was very sharp, the goad was 
very strong. But what is nuin that he should turn 
ugainst the goads? Heaven's will must be done on 
earth ; and the only question mooted in this pious 
houBchold was, whether this thing which had been 
made known to them was the work of Heaven. After 
nnich and sore contention of the spirit, both Foot and 
the husband thought they saw their way. Death is 
the term of legal wedlock. In the resurrection there 
is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. And had 
not the end of all legality arrived? Were not the Rev. 
Charles Mead, the woman, and her husband, saints 
who hatl entered on the heavenly life? To them, 


were not the world and it8 rnlcft n8 thint^s of the past! 
The reign of sin was over; and with the roign of sin 
had gone «all contracts made in the name of life and 
deatli. What death eonhl do for tliem was done; and 
every contract wliich death conid hreak was already 
hr(»ken and annnlled. On this view of the matter, 
they agreed to let the woman and her spiritual lover 
have their way. 

But the squatters and teamsters living out West, not 
having been saved from sin and hon\ to a new life, 
felt hound to resent this arrangement in their neigh- 
bor's house; and when a child was born of this 
spiritual pairing, they seized their axes and firelocks, 
broke into the log shanty, collared the three male 
saints, stri[>t them to the skin, smeared them with tar, 
rolled them up in feathei*s, and set them on a rail. 

This matter came before a court of law, in which 
Mead defended himself in pei*son ; but the judge 
agreed with the mob that a great offence had been 
committed by the reverend gentleman against public 
morals. Mead was cast in damages, and sent to jail. 

Foot held fast to his views that in this sad affair he 
had done no more than his duty, since he felt sure that 
Mead, in living with his sister in all the freedom of 
bride and groom, was carrying into effect the holiest 
ordinance of God. This was what he said to his roli* 
gious frienda. Of course, the transaction made some 
noise in the revival camps; perhaps, in the end, it 
weakened Foot's power as a preacher; but for a long 
time atler Mead's trial and imprisonment, this reverend 
gentleman was well known as a leader in tho conven- 
ticles of Massachusetts and New York. 




Tlf ARQUIS L. AVORDEN, a staid and sober person, 
ilJL fifty.five years old, is a married man, and the 
father of a family. I made his acquaintance in New 
York State. He was a farmer of good standing, and 
of fair education for his class. He lived in the first 
burnt district; and his religious trials, whirli, up to a 
certain point in his life, were those of many thousands 
of his countrymen (a fact to give them value in the 
eyes of ail social students), are told in the following 
paper, which he drew up for me at my request: 

"3V/r York, I)ecemhrr\h, ISGG. 

** In undertaking to give you my rccollcctionR of Spirit- 
ual wifehood, I must necessarily relate more or loss of 
personal history and experience ; and at bent 1 may not 
be able to throw mueh light on a subject wrapped, as 1 
think this is, in the mystery* of roligiou8 enthuHiasm. 

** It is eomnton with religions hccIh, and especially with 
individuals of the highest spiritual attainments, in times 
of fervent «eal, to think of God and Providence as arrang- 
ing their future in reference to soeial companionship. 
They have com« iuto the presence of God and the powers 
above, and therefore recognize a higher law over their 
impulses and passions, and offer their hearts to its guid- 
ance rather than to the law of human oi*di nances. Thus 
it can be seen how wives might be claimed under the pre- 
rogatives of the Spirit 

"1 was born in 1813, at Manlius, Onoudaga County, 


Now York. It wftg about the time I wu!* iwonty-one 
(18.'14) tiint I wus baptized by immersion, and taken into 
full communion with the Methodist KpitK*opal Chiir(*h. 
In the last days ol* the wimc year, 1 became a convert to 
MetlKNlist Perteetionisni. So I consider this as a sort of 
pivotal period from which I look backward and forward 
in my hintory. To me the year 1834 was throughout a 
year of earnentneHH, devotion, and religious activity. 
lievivaU prevailed in the neigh borli04HlM and region round 
about ManliuH, and through the country in which tho 
New Mea8ui*c Evangelistn, such as Luther Meyrick, Hora- 
tio Foot, and James Boyle, led the way, and it was mjr 
pleasure to unite in seal and effort with tliem, under tho 
Union religious sentiments which were |>opular at the 
time. I did not know anything of Perfectionism until tho 
fall of 1S34, although the Sheldons and others in Delphi, 
but fifteen miles distant, had been testifying to salvation 
from sin for a year or more. Martin P. Sweet and Jarvis 
iiider of i)e Huyier village, near Delphi, became Perfoc- 
tionints under the Sheldons* preaching, and travelled 
together as apostles, preaching from place to place, or, as 
they called it, bearing witness to salvation from sin. They 
went to S^'racuse, to Oswego, and finally came to Manliua 
(/ontre, where tho Cook and Mabie families, who ha<l been 
agitated by revivals during tho summer, received them 
and were converted. liy-and-by I came in contact with 
them, and received one or more of the first numbern of 
the Perfectionist, then recently published in New Ilavcn. 
The perusal of these papers, together with tho testimony 
of these perhons. led me to desire, through new convio- 
tion.H and aspirations, an experience both deeper and 
higher than I ha<l attained, and it was joyfully realized at 
about the close of the year. 1 had a calm trust in God 
and a grateful sense of deli verance ; had no disorderly inten* 
tions; and supposed 1 was still a Unionist or Methodibt; 
but the people who were called by these names did not 
receive my testimony, and their coldness sent mo to the 
genial warmth of Perfectionists, with whom I hencefortU 


" I can con»cicntionf»l3- 8ay that those oarly manifebta- 
tionft of New York piety were eharacterized by earncst- 
ncM, zeal, and power; and that the influence ofindividtiald 
by their faith and daily life wnH convincing to their nci^irh. 
bore that they held a holier faith, and lived better livcH, 
than common men. They believed in salvation from sin ; 
that ^whoHoever ih born of God doth not nin, and cannot 
Bin becauHc he in born of God/ and ban no dinpoHition to 
sin ; that 'whosoever ninneth is of the devil.' They be- 
lieved that they were led by the Spirit. They rejoiced 
in deliverance from what they called Babyloninh captivity*, 
or the legality of the churches, and no doubt tliis Hcnti- 
mcnt finally afTected their feelings and practice in various 
vrays, and cirpecially was applied to domestic and social 
relations. Here wo come to the beginning of the Spiritual- 
wife theory. 

" There was in Delphi an early believer, Lucina Umphro- 
ville by name, — a young woman of fair appeai*ance, good 
ability, and of prepoHHcnuing manners, who seemed to set 
herself up as a nort of Ann Lee, the advocate of spiritual 
love, in opponition to carnal love. Lucina rejected marriage. 

"1 came un<lcr this^ anti-marriage theory and influence, 
and have reason to believe it was common throughout my 
acquaintance. But during its prevalence, the i<lea of 
Hpecial companionship of the male with some particular 
female existed in a silent, undemonstrative way, and found 
expression occasionally. I remember the impression 1 
was under, from what I hcanl in some quartet's, that 
this lady champion of no-marriago and no-intercourse her- 
self was at one time considered the better half in spiritual 
union with Jarvis Hider, because * the man was not with- 
out the woman in the Lord.' 

*'This spiritual union too, so far as I recollect my im- 
pressions, was conceded to be a state of high attainment, 
for Lucina always quoted the text, *They that are ac- 
counted worthy to obtain that world do not marr}*, but 
are as the angels of God.* So the relation was considered 
sacivd, pure, and spiritual. 

W()j:nh\\'s roxF/:ssiox. z^i 

•• In I lie sj>rin;^<>t' iSiJO, Maria IJrown, of Brimtiohl noto- 
riely. came to ManliuA Centre. At that perioti pome 
rlian^cs iia<l c<»mc over iheeo peenliar theories and rola- 
tiohP of the brethn^n and Hinter*. Jarvis Hiiler had 
l»«M'f»mo much attached to a niarriiMl woman, a wieter whom 
wo all very much appreciated and loved for her beauty of 
rliarartor and goodness of heart. At the samo time, Misn 
Anli-Marriago (JiUcina Umphreville) wum appropriute<l by 
('harles Lovett in the name sense as iirother iiidor had 
]>rovionMly held her. Meanwhile the married sistor's hua- 
iinnd hecume distnrhe<l and anxious, and in u tit of mad 
jralousy took his horsewhi]>, and applied it furiously to 
Hmther J»idor s back, and sent him in hasto out-ofHloors. 
Ihit afterwards, throu;;h compunction of conscience and 
nther iiifluoncos, this furious brother repented, and restored 
Urothcr Jiider to his family and conlidencc, with confes- 
sions, regrets, and humiliations, and the course of lovo ran 
smooth again. But in the sequel there was some reason 
to believe that the relation became so far carnal as to lay 
jn^t foundations for scandal. 

"I do not know that the Spiritual-wife theory wan 
organized and ]iut in operation by these or any other 
similar transactions before and after them, but that phrase* 
ology was used to some extent among us. My iniprcsHion 
is that its origin might be traced to reports and scandals 
foniing in from Palmyra, Wagnelo, N. Y., where Joo 
Smith, since about 1820, had been developing Mormonism. -'li ^ 
I noiieo in the J/istory of the Mormons that mention i» V 
n)a<le of Smith's inducing several women to cohabit with- 1 
him whom he called Spiritual Wives. The time is given : » 
ns 1S3>^, and it was not until 1842 that he received hiii | 
revelation authorizing polygamy. But I have the impres- 
^•ion that there were in circulation stories about his 
Spiritual Wives long before that date. 

" Whether there was anything of account, in theory or 
practice, beyond such incidents as I have mentioned, to 
indicate the inauguration of Spiritual Wifehood in central 
^'ew YQrk, I cannot say; but 1 judge that some theory of 



the kind «li<l oxiNt in fart in the minds and licarlH of the 
revival body an a whole. M}' improHsion is that KraBmuA 
Stone acted more or lens on Ruch ideas in hiM relations 
with Eli^sa Porter. And Hiram Sheldon had a time of 
iK»eing in Sophia A. Cooke what ho failed to appi*ceiatc in 
hiH own wife. There was quite a general expectation that 
I he resurrection wa« soon eomin;^ to reori^anize society, 
and provi<le personal companionship of male and female 
without re^^anl to law or other marriage institutions. But 
an to carnal love, it was in many minds a pollution, not to 
be tolerated, but to bo crucified with the carnal mind, 
which is not * subject to the law of God, nor indeed can be.* 
** Years passed on. The weakness of some was manifest 
in their ^^eing overcome by the passions which they had 
condemned, and declared crucific<i and dead ; in others, by 
the surrender to the marriage relation, and I began to 
wonder what the end would bo. Finally, my own attach- 
ment concentrated on a young lady who stood, in heart, 
firmly on the theor}' of no marriage. Purity and com- 
munit}' with the angels was her motto. But I pushed in 
tho direction of actual marriage. Formidable were the 
obstructions; among others, I found that Brother Charles 
Lovott had intimated that my chosen one was his affianced 
brido in tho heavens. I waited yet a while. But in tho 
year 1839, on tho 4th of March, I was married. 

" Marquis L. Worpen." 

All that 18 said in this confession by way of fact, 
known to the writer, is no doubt true. It is only 
wlicn Worden conies to hearsay and fancy that he 
goes wnnig. Ills '* inipressiou*' that the theory of 
Spiritual Wives nmy have come from the Mormons of 
Palmyra, has no fotindation to rest on. 

The story of Mar}- Cragin's Spiritual trials, which 
give us a deeper insight into the working of these 
morbid passions, may now be told. 




MARY CRAGIN was one of tlic chief of many 
female brands who had been plucked from the 
burning lircs durini:: the Great Revival. The story of 
licr life is here told mainly in the words of her hus- 
band George. 

In its broad features, tliis story of two lives is that 
of an idolater and his idol ; of a singularly warm and 
Ktoadfast human pasnion, in conflict with an equally 
warm and steadfast spiritual passion. The idolater 
was George Crsigin ; the idol was his wife Marj'. 

From every one who knew her, I hear that in licr 
younger days Mary was extremely beautiful ; but her 
rare beauty of face and iigure seems to have been 
counted as the least among her many attractions. Slio 
liud the sot\ eye which seeks, and the ready smile 
which wins, the beholder's heart 8he was a good 
musician, a ready t4ilker, a delightful nurse. Kvery 
man who came near lier fell beneath her sway. With- 
out seeming effort on her side, she became the soul of 
every society into which she entered ; and from her 
native force of brain and will she could not help 
Ifccoming a leader of men and women in both tlie 
family and the church. Her story is worth telling at 
^tmie length. 

(ieorge Cragin, her husband by the law, was born 

in 1808, at Douglas, a village some fifty miles frtjin 

Boston. He was of Scottish descent; but bis fore- 
25 T 

290 sriRirrAh mvEs. 

poers had been RottlcMl in Massauhnsctts since the days 
of the Mayflower. Ilin lather and mother, PuriUina 
o( the hardest type, had hrouu^ht np tlieir »on in the 
belief that to drink wine, to smoke pipes, to dance, to 
drive u sleigh, to read novels, to see phiys, to miss 
divine service, and go to a revival ehnreh, were eaeli 
and all deadly sins. Cragin the elder was u dark, 
stern, silent man ; staid in manner, prompt in counsel, 
active in business; who, as he seemed to be doing 
well in the world, wjw allowecl to take a high part in 
the local politics, and to represent the city of j^ouglas 
in the legislature of his State, llewais poor in health; 
his business adventures failed; ami his family was 
beggared at one blow. Father an<l son left Douglas; 
and at nineteen years of age George Cmgin found 
bin)self thrown upon the worhl for bread. 

At this age, (ieorge was hardly moiv than a chihi. 
Twice he had made himself tii>8y with tobacco, and 
once with lemon-punch. Twice he had fallen in love: 
once when lie was ten years old, with a lady of the 
same age, but of unknown name; once agiun, when ho 
was fifteen, with a poor Methodist girl, named Ke- 
becca, whom his father would not sutler him to court. 
This second love-aflair had brought much trouble on 
bis ])arents; who, being members of the Congre- 
gational cliurch, held Methodist girls, especially Meth- 
odist girls who were poor, in high contempt. This 
love, though hot in the lad of fitleen, could hardly 
live in a parent's ire. George gave way, and Rebecca 
went to the well. 

George was now sent to school, where a female 
pupil is said to have died for love of him. Then he 
was placed behind a counter in Boston, from which 
point of disadvantage he first saw something of fallen 
women ; aflerwardS| in the way of busiuessi he got 


to Now York, wlicrc he was convortetl by a revival 
proadicr, the Kev. Churh^s G. Finney, a jfreat light 
anions; tlie Free Church and New Meatinre people. 
In Xew York he fell into mild ilirtation8 with Sarah 
Steele, a co-disciple in the Lord. But this New York 
Sanih, though she took his arm on her way to meet- 
ing, and seemed in her quiet mood to enjoy liis talk, 
would not suiter the young man from Mast^sichusctts 
to kiss her lips. Once, when he threw his arm ahout 
her neck and tried it on, she flashed out upon him 
with a ''Why, George ! " that went into his flesli like 
a knife. Sarah was pn)ud to have the young Puritan 
for an escort when she went to liear the Kev. Charles 
G. Finney denounce the world and tlie devil; but 
her lieart was dead to such wanu love as glowed in 
George's heart, and on his ott'er of a soft salute, her 
quick reproof of his folly sent him whirling off into 
iniinite space ; from which, let the lady do what she 
liked, he could never find his way back. 

After this rebuff from Sarah, he fell more eagerly 
than ever into a course of stern, unabating exercise 
of the spirit With a clerk of like mind, in the same 
trading-house, he agreed upon a plan for prayer. 
These lads met in the oilice, of which they kept the 
keys, at live o'clock every morning; they prayed to- 
gether until six, when they walked out to their chapel; 
there they prayed until seven; after which they %vent 
back to the counting-house and began the business 
of the world. In their long walks they repeated 
snatches of psalms and hymns. In their moments 
of leisure they lisped a form of prayer. After work 
was done in the store, they returned to chapel for 
service, and after service in the chapel they retired to 
their room for private devotion. Every hour of Sun- 
day was absorbed by church and school. On that 


day thoy holil Bil)Ic cIas8Cfl for young men and young 
women, mo8t of all for young women ; many of whom 
they wrought upon, by wonl or tone, to confess their 

It was in tliis strict school of duty and observance 
tliat George Cragin encountered tlio young lady who 
was to become his wife. 

High among the old families of Puritan descent 
who had found a home in Maine, were the Johnsons 
ajid (lorhains of Portland. Like all the best families 
in New England, these Jolmsons and Gorhams were 
engaged in farming and trading; but they ranked 
with the gentry ; they put their girls into good schools; 
they sent their boys to college; and they held their 
heads rather high among the intellectual classes. 
Daniel, one of the Johnson young men, had proposed 
to Mary, one of the Gorham ladies ; he liad been ac- 
cepted as a suitor; and, after his equal and happy 
marriage, he had liecome the father of two children, 
a boy and a girl. This pair of Puritans, Daniel and 
Mary Johnson of Portland, were Presbyterians of the 
strictest rite; members of the Rev. Kdward Payson's 
church ; and their infant children, called by their 
parents' names, Daniel and Mary, were baptized into 
the new life by that eminent divine. In due time, 
Daniel K. •((»hn.son, the boy, went to Yalo College, 
where lie took high lionors, studied theology, and 
became an oriumient of the Prc8!)yterian Church. 
Mary, the girl, wsis born in 1810; and her course of 
life was to run on a wholly diiferent line. 

From an early ago she showed unusual signs of 
quickness and sympathy. Very pretty, very bright, 
very amiable, everybody liked her and everybody 
petted her. To her father and her brother, she was 
a sort of idol ; so that, even when she was yet a little 


cliiM, (lioy never tired of rendiiis^ with lier and work- 
ing for lu»r. Phu^cd in a pood school when nhe wa« 
live* jeurn oM ; kojit ait close <lrill until Aw wan fifteen; 
IioIjkmI at lionie l»y a clever lallier; 8|iiirred nlon|^ hv 
tlic correspondence of an advancing brother; where 
is the marvel that Mary*H teachens nhouUl have at hist 
declared that they eould teach her no more; and that 
tlie time had eoine when she might be intrusted to 
teach in turn ? 

Johnson, her father, wlio was engaged in buniness 
as a bookseller and publisher, removed his liouse from 
Tortland to New York, in the hope of doing better iu 
the Empire St;ite than lie had done in Maine. Shortly 
after his arrival with his wife and daughter in the 
great city, a movement, which had been eommenced 
by Mrs. Bcthune and other ladies, for establishing 
infant-schools for the benefit of the poor, took active 
form in New York. A committee was fonned, on 
which were Dr. Hawks, Dr. I3ethune, and many other 
men of mmie and note. They wanted female teiiidici*B. 
One school was to be opened by them near St Thomas' 
Church, to be placed under the care of its pastor, tlio 
famous orator and writer, Francis Lister Hawks, Doc- 
tor of Divinity ; and Mary Johnson, whose grace anil 
tact were known to many ladies and clergymen on the 
new committee, was asked to undertake the charge ; 
which she did at once from a high sense of duty; 
though this charge of a hundred and fifty children was 
sure to be a heavy burden to a girl not yet beyond 
her teens. 

Rooms were now liired on the ground-floor of Union 

Church, in rrinces Street; notices were sent into tlie 

houses and cabins all about; and when the doors of 

her school were thrown open, Mary found her benches 

flooded with refuse from the quays and lanes. The 
or, # 


little things who came to her were dirty and in rags; 
they hardly knew their own names; many of them 
liad no liomes, and eouhl not tell where their mothers 
lived. AH tlie small miseries of a great city seemed 
to be poured into the school-room under Union Church 
through these open doors. But Mary had her heart in 
the toil. She put these tiny wretclies into rows and 
classes — the younger chits together, the older girls hy 
themselves, and taught them to march in step, and to 
sing in time. She induced them to wash their faces 
and mend their clothes. She read prayers for them, 
and explained the Bible to them. In a few months 
these imps and elfs of the river-side were changed 
into the likeness of human beings. Some fell back, 
no doubt; the tides of the world being far too strong 
for an infant-school to stem ; but the work of cleansing, 
shaping, and restoring still went forward under Mar}'*8 
care ; the little ones coming to her when they could, 
and staying as long as the house-keeper would let 
them stay. Many a poor mother, as she tramped 
through the streets, was only too glad to find a place 
in which for six or seven hours she could leave her 
homeless child. The Rev. Francis Hawks and the 
committee were coming to feel very happy in their 
success, when a simple incident occurred, which was 
to carry away their teacher into another sphere. 




CHURCH services arc over," says George Cragin, 
narrating the events which brought him into his 
fir«t companionship with Mary Johnson, "the congi*c- 
gation slowly disperse, some going one way, and some 
another. All, save a few young men, have left tlio 
sanctuary for their liomes. The latter hold a prayor- 
mceting for a short time, and then they too seimrato 
and go here and tliere. It was one of Nature's heav- 
enly days, that Sunday in June; the sky clear as crys-. 
tal, and the air sweet and balmy as the breath of in- 
fancy, when I stood in front of the church saying to 
myself, * Shall I return to my home down town?' 1 
did not always return to my boanling-house till after 
the evening meeting. My usual route was down 
Broadway, but something put the suggestion into my 
mind to return home tli rough the Bowery. And why 
that way? It is a good half-mile farther. Never 
mind that; obey onlers and march. So down the 
Bowery I started. I was by no means partial to that 
great thoroughfare of butchers' and Bowery boys; too 
many roughs and rowdies promenaded its sidewalks 
on Sundays to suit my taste. Inwardly, however, I 
felt at peace with all mankind just then, and was 
humming to myself as I walked straight ahead, 
passing tlie gay and the thoughtless, — 

* Jesus, I Tby cross have taken. 
All lo lcR?e And follow Thee.* 

2% sriinTiAfs wivKs, 

When, liavinjj iiourly ivhcIiimI the ]»<>wory Tlioatro, I 
\vii8 siitMeiily HiirjH-iscMl snid hnm^rlit to a ntaiMlstill, by 
beiiijLCconfroiitiMl, not l»y rowdies \valkin«r tlnvo ahroast, 
with pantH tuniCMl u|i at tho bottom showini; the white 
linin!^, and eacli with a eitfar in tho cavity of iiis ti«;nro- 
liead, but by a beautiful, Hniiling face (who ever 8a w a 
smiling face that was not beautiful ?), tljc owner of 
wliieli was a Miss Mary E. Johnson, the infant-school 
tcaelier of our church. Wc ha<l never spoken to each 
other l>efore, to my recollection, although members 
of the same religious body. IVrliaps there Inid never 
been a necessity for it, l)Ut tliere was one now. Miss 
Jolinson was n(»t alone; had she been alone we should 
have simply nodded recognition and passed on. She 
lield by the hand a little girl, not more than four years 
of age, who ]md been brouglit l)y some one into her 
infant Sunday-school class, at the close of which the 
little innocent remained uncalled for. How many 
children arc left in one way or anotlier, and renniin 
uncalled for? So, Miss Johnson, whose interest in 
und care for cliildren under her charge was already 
proverliial in that section of the city, undertook the 
task of fin<ling the little one's home, or (since many 
of the very poor do not have homes, but only stopping- 
]daces) lier owners, with no other guide than the child 
lierself, who had taken her teacher down to the Bowery 
Theatre, intinmting that she lived in that direction. 
But after fruitless wandering, for nearly an hour, Miss 
Jolmson, becoming a little alarmed, and not knowing 
what to do with the 'uncalled-for* upon her hands, 
was returning up the Bowery when we met. Her 
anxiety about the child was so great that, conquering 
ber bashfulness and sense of female propriety, that 
would have deterred her from speaking to a young 
man in the streets, she followed the stronger instinct 


of her heart by gtoppin;? ninl 9tatinp: to nic the facti^of 
tlic case. My benevolonro, actinsjf in concert with my 
admiration for female Ioveline«», needed no spur to 
make me a volunteer at once for tlie BcrvMco re(|uired, 
being glad enough of the i»rivilege of joining bo uttrac- 
tive an expedition in search of the wliereubouts of tho 
chiUrs parentis. After a brief con8uItution we decided 
to return to the vicinity of the church, for the further 
prosecution of the seardi ; and if no ownern for the 
lost property appeare<l, then consult tho elders for 
further advice. So, with the little one between us, we 
moved forward for our destination. 

"It was a pleasant walk that — I remember it well. 
I Iiad heard much about Miss Johnson, as being a 
young woman of good min<l, well educated, and a 
model of the rules of city i>oliteness, etiquette, etc. 
I thought myself, therefore, highly favored by Provi- 
dence in being thus incidentally thrown into her com- 
pany ; for the conviction continued to ding to mo that 
I was still a rustic, and needed much discipline to free 
me from clownish habits. But little did I imagine at 
that time, that I had [>rovidentially met the woman with 
whom in future I was to take many walks and rides, 
and have numy sittings together, both in sorrow and 
hi joy, in adversity and in prosperity. 

"On arriving at the door of the school-room in tho 
basement of the church, we fciund the mother of tho 
little one waiting patiently, and quite unconcernedly, 
for the child to turn up. 'Were you not alarmed for 
the safety of your little girl?' said Miss Johnson to 
the mother. 

"'Lord bless ye, ma'am! how could I be troubled 
when my young ones be better oft* with you, Miss 
Johnson, than they be at home 7 I wish you had some 
of them all the time. But I suppose you will have 


enongli of j'onr own, MIrs, one of tlicsc days.' This 
last ullusion dcopcniMl the o<»lor, already clierry-red, 
on the eheekfl of tlie young teaelier. 

'* Being relieved of the little respon nihility on her 
liand8, MisH JolinHon ha<] a greater one now to dispose 
of, wliieh she liad assumed hy inviting an ally 1o assist in 
tlic search. Her parents residing nearly opposite the 
church, she couhl do no less tlian invite nic in to tea." 

George found that lie was now falling into love, in 
some sort against his will ; since he was conscious, to 
use his own words, that the marriage spirit was a 
strong antagonist of the revival spirit ; and also, per- 
Iiaps, hecause, in a dim way, he was conscious of the 
existence of another young girl called Sarah Steele. 
Sarah was still a very dear friend ; now and then ho 
went to see her; hut as he told himself that he had 
never ojiened with her a matrimonial account (a baffled 
attempt at kissing, I supi>ose, may count for nothing) 
lie owed lier no ajiologies. 

With Mary he wais soon at fever heat. ** When I 
liid our fair friend good evening, on the second time 
of speaking with her,** he says, **a queer sensation 
passed over me, quite different from any former ex- 
perience. It seemed as though I had parted with a 
large share of myself or life. Not that it was lost in 
an}- unpleasant sense, for I felt very happy after saying 
that good evening." 

Mary was kind to him, though in all her talk with 
him her chief c(»ncern appeared to bo for the salvation 
of his soul. Her own affairs were not going on well. 
Cholera had compelled her to close the scliool; things 
had gone wrong with her father, who Iiad lost his 
business and taken to cock-tails and rum-punch; a 
fierce revival Inid sprung u[), and her lover had quitted 
the old connection in wliich she lived to assist in build- 

nors cornTsnir. 2w 

ing up a Free Church, llonvy douiU, therefore, lay 
upon her lite. Not that nho wafl hupi'less; her beauty 
and her gracious talent brought to her 8iilc a host of 
friends. One young man of high family and pn>nuMng 
lortune8 otlcred her hi.i hand; but thinking him, witli 
all his braverj* and diutinction, to be a nuin of worblly 
spirit, hIic put the temptation of rai/mg bcreelf and all 
licr family from her heart. Perhapd she was in lovo 
with George. PerhapM »»hc luul tteant belief in tho 
power of wealth to make women happy. Anyhow, 
she had a tine sense of duty, which absolutely forbado 
lior to accept advantages ijHered tt) her under the stress 
of what might prove to be, on the part of this wealthy 
lover, a passing whim. 

When (leorge in turn proposal to her, she refused 
his love under a solemn weight of care. Was she fit 
tor the nuirried life? Was not her lather a man who 
dnmk? Was not she in some sort a child of shame T 
Could she consent to involve a man whom site loved 
in her own disgrace ? In these words she put tlic caso 
before her lover: — 

'* You may remember that some time ago you drew 
nie out in a conversation about nnirriage, in which I re- 
marked that I had nnide up my mind not to nuirry, even 
it' an unexceptional Iife-partnei>hip were proifered to 
me. You probably regarded it at the time as agirlisli 
expression that meant exactly the ojtposite, if any 
meaning whatever w-as attached to it. But you will 
think ditierently now, when you understand tho 
ground upon which I ventured that declamtion. It 
may not have escaped your notice altogether, wbeii 
you have been at our liouse, that my father s converBU* 
tion at times liaa been quite ambiguous and discon- 
nected, — not to say meaningless and silly; making it 
manifest that he was under the iuilueuce of intoxicatr 


ing (Iriiikd. The confession, therefore, that I have 
long desired to make to you is, tiiut my fatlier is an 
intemperate man, and has been so for a number of years. 
Tlie grief tlnit this habit of his has caused my dear 
mother, brotlier, and myself, is known only to Ilim who 
*was a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.* 
It was through this habit, and the associations to which 
it leads, that he lost a lucrative business. For some 
good and wise purpose this trial has been put upon 
me in my youth, and I am learning to submit to it 
without murmuring; believing that all things work 
t(»gether for good to 'them who love God.' If it were 
|>overty alone against which we are called upon to 
struggle, I should b}* no means regard it as a disgrace, 
but only an inconvenience to be avoided. But intem- 
perance is a vice, if not a crime, because it implies a 
lack of self-control and manly courage in resisting 
temptation to idleness and slavish appetites. 

**Now will you believe me when I say to you, that 
I have too much regard ft>r you to consent to disgrace 
your father's family by accci»ting your olier of mar- 
riage? I hardly need sa}' that it has cost me many 
mental struggles to take this stc]». But I could not 
satisfy my sense of right without making the sacrifice.** 

That note from Mary Johnson fixed her fate for life. 
Up to this jKiint George had thought of her only as a 
j»rctty girl, soft of voice, who made everybody love 
her. Now she was a heroine ; a young woman capable 
of the highest form of sacrifice. Give her up! Whait 
had he to do with pride ? His family, though of the 
same class, was not so good as hers; for on her 
mother's side, at least, she had come from the very 
best blood iu Maine. The Cragins could not pretend 
to rank with the Gorhams. He therefore pressed his 
suit upon her. Mary paused; but her brother, the 


liev. Duniel K. JoliiiHon, joined in supporting George's 
prayer; and during a summer holiday, the wedding 
of tiiese young hearts took phiee; the Uev. Daniel 
•Johnson, now acting as the true head of his family, 
giving away the bride. 



rpiIK tricks wliicli Cragin found in vogue among tho 
•1. men of Wall Street sickened him with trade; his 
i\iritan blood, his Uiitural taste, and his religioun zeul, 
conspiring to make him loathe the ways which led to 
HUi'cess either on the quay or in the bank. Other work 
ap|»cared to call him. The vice on the river-side, tho 
misery at Five Points — the thieves' slums near tho 
Ihitter}*, the hariots' dens in Green Street — spoke to 
his heart. Thanks to tlie Kev. Charles G. Finney, and 
some other i*evival preachers, cHorts were then being 
ma<le to deal, on a new plan, and in a religious spirit, 
with the dangerous clasHes of New York; and this 
strife with ignorance and misery was the kind of work 
for which nature and education had jircpared Inith 
Cragin and his wife. They joined in it heart and 
soul ; becoming teachers among the poor, viHitoni 
among the cast-away, distributors of tracts, of eloths, 
of alms to the lowest classes in one of the most aban- 
doned cities of this earth. Five or six years were 
spent by Cragin as the agent, lecturer, and publisher, 
tirst of the Maternal Association, then of the Female 
Benevolent Society, and next of the Female Moral 


Kcfonii Society. To the last of tliese societies George 
%va8 tlie male agent, working, however, under a com- 
mittee of ladies. 

Pass wc lightly over the early years of their married 
an<l religious life; since those years — though full of 
matter to the nuin and woman — were hut the stages 
through which Mary was to travel on her way from 
legal hondage, as they called it, to a state of freedom 
from sin and spiritual marriage to another man. Dur- 
ing these years they lived in the revival world, among 
men and women who had embraced the wildest doc- 
trines of the New Measure and the Free Church. 
They were always mi the watch fi>r new liglits, for 
personal intimations, for the coming of they knew not 
what They love<l each other very much ; and on 
George's si<le the jnassion had passed, at a very early 
stage of wedlock, into idolatry-. Now and then a fear 
came on theni that this isolating and exclusive love 
was wrong; since they could not help feeling that it 
took them from the C'hurcli ; and they began to fear 
lest it should end in withdrawing their hearts from 
God. On botli sides there waw an earnest striving 
after a nobler life. Every storm of revival energy 
which passed through the land in which they dwelt, 
caught them up in its whirl, tossed them to and fro on 
its angry waves, and left them stranded among a thou- 
sand broken hulls and spars. 

George Cragin says: — 

** The spring of 1839 found us occupying the half 
of a dwelling in Jane Street, New York, a tenement 
amply suiiicient for our small family. Mrs. Cragin's 
mind was still much exercised on the subject of per- 
fect holiness, or salvation from sin. Being relieved 
from the cares and perplexities of a large family, sho 
had leisure fur reflection und self-examination. 

MAUniEl) LIFE, 3i« 

Til rough tljc ngoncj' of Mn*. Blark, Mr«. Crajnn 
fornuMl tlie ac(|naintaincc of 8ovon»l |M»r?*on8 called 
* IVrlcH'tioiiists,* wiio claimed to have come into |>o8- 
pcssioii of the prirelcM hoon of freeilom fnmi rtiii and 
eoiidemnatioii. These iiidividnairt received wliat 
knowledijc they possessed on the subject fmm Ah- 
ram C.Smith ami John I?. Lyvere, persons with wlumi 
John II. Xoyes was assi>ciated for a short time in the 
year 1H37. My own mind was ill at ease during this 
period. I can hardly describe the soubtidal fluctu- 
ations to which I Wiis subject. Although a nominal 
member of the Tabernacle Church, I seldom attended 
the meeting, excusing myself from duty-doing on 
account of the distance from my residence. I was 
neither in the church nor out of it — still clinging to 
the shadow, vaiidy wishing it might turn into u sub- 
stance. At this juncture in ni}* exi)erience, attempts 
were nnide to get me back to the Thinl Free Cliundi, 
where I expended so much of my early zeal during 
the revival period. The pastor, with whom I was well 
acquainted, employed a little flattery upon my egotism 
to gain njy consent, saying that they wanted me to fill 
the vacancy of an eldership, &c. I was soi"C*tempted to 
yield to their entreaties, but some unseen power kept 
me from the snare of oflicial position. And, more- 
over, what was I to gain by turning again to the beg- 
garly elements of dead works? Orders Imd been 
given me to advance ; but I was slow in comprehend- 
ing them. Formerly, I had looked up to ministers 
for guidance and instruction ; I could look in that 
direction no longer. My intimacy with some of them 
disclosed the fact that they were, as a body, i»owerlesa 
and penniless in the riches of the wisdom and grace 
of Qod. The blind could not lead the blind. Sinners 
preaching to sinners was a mocker}* that my whole 


nature loathed. At times, I waw greatly ilissatisfied 
with myself ; in a wonl, was sick — soul-sick. But 
the disease that was uj»on me — a criminal unbelief 
— was an unknown one to myself and to thechdrches 
Equally ignorant were we of the remedy — faith.** 

Mary was the first to feel her way out of these 

troubles. The more immediate agency i>f her new 

; conversion was a pnner written by Father Noyes on 

i the power of faith, — a paper which bhe read and pon- 

' dero<I until light Howed in u[>on her soul. 

** It came," she said, " with the authority of the 
word of God to her inner life. Step by step it led 
her on, with that clear logical conviction that charac- 
terizes mathematical demonstration, for ever settling 
points beyond all doubtful dis]>utation and discussion. 
The spirit of that paper brought her face to face with 
the practical f|uesti(His of believing, submission, and 
confession, not at some future time, at a more con- 
venient season, but now — present tense, imperative 
mood.*' Her husband then proceeds with the story 
of her inner life: — 

•* For several weeks she spent much time in prayer, 
saying buf little to myself or any one, for her feelings 
were too deep and intense for expression, except to 
Ilim who l)ears the earnest, secret prayer of the 
honest-hearted seeker after truth. Mrs. Cragiu had 
one weakness of character that greatly distressed her 
—•a quick temper. At times, when the tempter would 
suddenly spring that snare upon her, she would be 
over\vhelmed with condemnation, which for the time 
being would cause her to despair of salvation. So 
the question would be thrust at her again and again, 
when she was on the point of confessing Christ in her 
a Saviour from all sin, * You may bo saved from other 
faults, but not from your passionate anger when sud- 


deiily provoked.* And npiiii, that unholicviii|f denion 
would insinuate to her, that if after making the eon- 
fesrtion tliat Christ Iiad saved her from nil 8in, she 
shouhl be overcome by her old enemy, all wouhl he 
lost, and that ChriKt*8 power was insuiKcient to east 
out a devil 80 subtle as the one with whieh rIic had in 
vain contended for so many yeai^s. Finally, the con- 
troversy that had been tcoin^ on within was narrowed 
down to this sin<j:le point, * Is Christ w*ithin nic?' I 
will quote a paraiicraph from the article so instinct with 
life to her soul : — 

"*If the inquirer declares himself willing to part 
with his idols, and yet cannot believe, we must search 
through his spirit a^ain for the reason of his unbelief. 
I'erha|>8 he is saying in his heart, " I would believe if 
I could feel that Christ is in me, and I am saved ; " in 
other words, "I will believe the testimony of my own 
feelinfirs, but not the word of God." Tliis iswron^. 
A right spirit says, " Let Go<l be true, and every man 
a liar. God says lie has given me His Son and eter- 
nal life; my feelings contradict Ilis record ; my feel- 
ings are the liars, God is true ; I know and will tentify 
that Christ is in me a whole Saviour, because God de- 
clares it, whether my feelings accord with the testi- 
mony or not.** If you wish for peace and salvation by 
the witness of the Spirit before you believe, you wish 
for the fruit before there is any root. Kighteousncss, 
l»eace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, arc the connequenctM 
of fuith ; the word of God, and that only, is its foun- 

"Mrs. Cragin,** says her husband, "had gono 
through the conflict ....'* 
20» u 




THE doctrine of a life without sin was made to rest 
on a belief that through the power of faith a man 
may be able to cast out from his nature the spirit of 
self. The selfish spirit was one with the evil spirit. 
All true virtue began with renunciation. To give up 
self was to give up sin, and to live for God alone was 
tlie highest act of grace. '* Follow me/* had been 
a call to the elect for ever. Leave all, — leave every 
one, be it house and land, be it flocks and herds, be it 
oven wife and chihl ; cast all these things behind thee, 
if thou wouldst save thy soul alive! Such were the 
words addressed to a believer's lieart. All things 
near and dear must be laid on the altar of sacrifice ; 
nmk, riches, pride, ambition, peace, and love. If a 
man would be freed from sin, his faith in God must 
bo perfect; his abandonment of self complete. God 
must become to him all in all. 

This act of renouncing self in the heart is the con- 
flict to whi<'h George refers. Mary had always been 
less worldly in her ways than her husband was — more 
trustful and confiding, more like a saint and a child, 
as good women are apt to be, especially when their 
thoughts have taken a religious turn. She was now 
ready for the sacrifice, eager to spend and be spent 

"Mrs. Cragin had gone through the conflict," says 
the idol- worshipper! "and a severe one it was, of 
giving up husband, cliild, mother, and brother, the 


most cherished of her hou}«ehol<1 godd. She hsul 
counted the cost, moreover, of beinj: cast out of so- 
ciety, if not rejected and disowned by rehitivcs, and 
turned into the street liy lier hushand; so «^reat was 
tlie odium cast upon the so-called lioresy of Perfec- 
tionism. Witli the resolution and heroic puqK>8e of 
tlje noble Esther, of Bible history, to take tho step 
before her, saying, *If I perish, I perish,* slic dared all 
consequences and made the confession that Christ was 
in her a present and everlasting Saviour fi-om sin. 

" I well remember the da}', the hour, and the place, 
in which she tremblingly obeyed tho inspiration of 
her heart in confessing an indwelling Christ. I had 
returned home from my place of business at the usual 
hour, five o'clock in the afternoon. We were in our 
basement dining-room alone. After a pause of silence, 
she said, * I confess Christ in me a Saviour from all 
sin: I shall never sin again.' I believe that confessiim 
was heard and recorded in heaven, causing angels to 
rejoice over the victory thus gained — for they know 
the value of souls.*' 

George f<dlowed his wife into this non-selfish church, 
as he would have followed her into any other; for Iiis 
soul was her soul, his mind her mind ; and he seems 
to have had, at that date, no wish, no hope, bcyoml 
doing her will and living in her love. From the day 
of their wedding, his passion for his lovely wife had 
been burning into whiter heat. About this time his 
love for her had increased to the point of fanaticism — 
to that of idolatry, when she bore him his first-boni 
child. What she did, he must do ; whither she went, 
he must go ; her country' must be his country, and her 
God his God. Mary was his law; he had not yet 
eome to see, only to fear, that this superstition of 
the heart was an evil spirit, to be driven out of his 


soul at any and every cost before he eould be recon- 
ciled in Houl to heaven. 

lie was to learn it all in time ; but the outward 
trouble came upon him sooner than the inward. 
iSeoutg and spies, who seem to abound in churches 
however holy, carried the news of George's conver- 
sion to the doctrine of a life on earth untouched by 
eeliishnessy unstained by sin, to several of the reform- 
ing ladies of his committee — members of the Female 
Iteforni Society — who forthwith called a meeting of 
the boanl to condemn him. Maiy wept for joy at this 
80und of a coming storm. She had prepared her soul 
for persecution. She wished to make some visible 
. Bacrifice for the truth. All that she had yet yielded 
up to God was a form — a dream — an allegory — a 
phrase. It was only in terms that she could be said 
to have given up father and mother, husband and 
oliild. But the angry matrons of the Reform Society 
were about to bring her sacrifices home. Their ques- 
tions were rough, and to the point. What right had 
a man in a free country to change his mind? What 
could induce a moral retbrmer to begin meddling with 
religious truth? Where was the need for one, whose 
duty lay among thieves and fallen women, to trouble 
liimself about salvation from sin? In an angry mood 
these ladies came into the board-room. George was 
told to stand up before them, while thirty pair of 
bright eyes scanned his figure from head to foot, as 
though they had expected to see hoofs, and horns, and 
tails to match. What had he to say in explanation 
and defence? 

Not much. He was a free man. He lived in a free 
state. lie thought he was acting in his right. He 
knew that he was a better man for the change which 
bad come uiK>n his spirit. 


Hoot I 8fti(l tlic EilitrcHS of a journal pubH»1iecl by 
the Foinalo Kctonnei*s, hero is the Uattlc-Axe letter, — 
an intainou8 letter, au internal letter: this letter irtfn>m 
the pen of Xoyes. Could u godly nmn write sueh a 
thin:^ an that? 

George did not know. The Battlo-Axo letter, he 
liad lieard, referred to what might be done by holy 
men an<l women at some future time, — per)ia[i3 on 
thin planet, perhaps in the higher spheres. Ho had 
nothing to say about it since he did not understand 
it ; and his ease stood solely on the paper culled the 
Power of Faitli. 

He was dismissed from office, and Mary wept upon 
his neck for joy. 

Turned out into the world, despised, condemned of 
men, the pair put on, as it were, the raiment of bride 
and groom. Mary wrote to her new teacher, Father 
Xoycs : — 

"While I am writing to j-ou I am weeping for joy. 
M}* dear husband one week since entcre<l the king- 
<lom. When I tell you that he has been the publish- 
ing agent of the AdviHjate of Mvtal llvform^ and had 
been born but tliree days when they cast Iiim out, 
you will rejoice with me. Ah, Brother Xoyes, liow 
have the mighty fallen! In him you will find u most 
rigi<lly upright character, — Grahamism, and OlKsrltu 
perfection all in ruins. How he clung to Oberlin, as 
with a death-grasp ! How confident was he that none 
were saved from sin but mere Grahamitcs! How 
disgusted with the conduct of Perfectionists! The 
Lord has pulled down strong towers. Bless the Lord ! 
— [-on the lirst of December he will be without money 
ai^d without business. How this rejoices me I ** 

iSuch was the spirit in which Mary Cragin took the 
cross of persecution on herself. 


The last wonU of her letter were liardly true. 
George had heen a imulent naver of Iiia means, aiul 
without telling his wife about his thrift, he had put 
up more than a hundred dollars in the bank. If they 
were poor, they were not penniless, "We shall stand 
by," said Mary, strong in her faith, **and let the Lord 

The two leading men of their new way of thinking 
in the State of New York were the Rev. Abram C. 
Smith and the Rev. John B. Lvvere. Smith lived 
at liondout Creek, on the North River, about two 
miles from Kingston, seventy-five miles fmm New 
York. Lyvcre had a house in the city. With both 
these Saints the Cragins made acquaintance, and 
from both they received advice and help. " We 
looked up to these persons,** says George, '*as our 
teachers and guides, regarding ourselves as mere babes 
in Christ, to be cared for and fed by others with the 
milk of the word of life." To Abram C. Smith, a 
bold, strong man, of large experience and resolute 
will, they became attached by the closest ties of 
friendship and brotherhood. 

Mary was so pretty, so clever, so engaging, that 
]ier house in Jane Street soon became a gathering 
jihice for the Saints of New York, who dropped in 
for counsel, for reproof, perhaps also for gossip. But 
the best of us are hardly better than the angels. 
George soon found that some of those Saints who had 
come to pray remained to flirt. At least, he thought 
80y and .tlie mere suspicion made him wretched. 

**I have to confess,** he writes, in his simple story, 
"that my wife had become a very popular member 
of our fratemity, receiving rather more attention from 
some of the brotherhood than suited my taste. One 
cane in particular, with which I was occasionally dis- 


turUed, wart that of a brother whose social antcecdenU 
presentoil anything but a clean record, althon<]^h he 
had been a menil>er of the Metliodiflt Church for 
many years. That at whicli I took oilencc most fre- 
ijuently was his use of coarse language. Not iM)sse4M- 
ing the faculty of concealing my feelings, I became 
rather an unpopular member of our circle. Placed 
thus between two iires, legality on the one hand and 
licentiouHness on the other, my position led me into 
Kcvere conflicts with tlie powers of darkness, und was 
anything but an enviable one. Many and many a 
time, as I walked the streets of the city, did I repeat 
to myself the verse, — 

*The soul tlmt on Jesus Imlh leaned for repose, 
I will nut, 1 c»n not, desert to His foes.' 

*'I gainetl nniny a victory in spirit, devoutly hoping 
that each conflict would be the last encounter with 
the enemy of m}' peace.'* 

Of coui*se, in (ieorge's state of mind at that time, 
it was impossible for him to obtain, and almost irnv- 
tiomil for him to desire, a perfect repose of mind. 
As he says, in looking back from the heights which 
he subsequently gained: — 

''Those desires for peace before the devil was cast 
out of my whole nature were, of course, childish 
and egotistical. But we ha<l entered u new school, 
and a(?cepted such te;ichers as otlered themselves to 
us. I needed help." 

That help which he needed for casting out the 
selfish spirit from his heart, and curing himself of his 
old idolatry of his pretty wife, was near at hand, in 
the person of the Rev. Abram C. Smith. 




THE man to whom wc looked for help, and in whom 
wo liad the most confidence," says Cragin, " was 
Ahrani C. Smith." 

The Rev. Ahram C. Smitli, the man by whom tlicy 
were to be purged of tlie scllish spirit, and made lit for 
life in a higher spliere — who was to become George's 
Spiritual guide and Mary*s Spiritual husband — wjis 
of a type, a chiss, an order, not peculiar perhaps to the 
American soil, yet nowhere to be found so strongly 
and sharply marked sis in New England and New 
York. To begin with his list of merits, he had the 
true kind of name for a teacher, a name of three parts: 
the first part, a personal name, Abram; the third part, 
a family name. Smith; and lying between these parts, 
an emphatic letter, (7., on which the voice was to rest 
in speaking, and which was never to be written out in 
full. Nearly all the nmrked men among the Saints 
have this sign: as John B. Foot, Abram C. Smith, 
John B. Ijyveix', John IL Noyes. But Abram C. had 
Homething alxMit him far more potent than a name. 
He prided himself on being a zealot among the zealous, 
a free man among the free, lie had all the virtues, 
and many of the vices, of the American frontier men. 
Born with an in>n fmme and a burning pulse, he was 
noted, even as a lad, for his hard ways of life and for 
his earnest speech. V^ery few youngsters equalled him 
in the power of getting through hard work on hard 


jaro. In felling tinihcr, in slitting raiU, in trcncliing 
iioldft, in digging wells, in raising shanties, vcrj' few 
workmen could compete witli Abram C Like nearly 
all Yankee lads, he was a man while yet a l>oy; fixjo 
of the world, tlie llesli, and tlie devil in his teens; 
loud, pinched, eager, resolute, talkative. From his 
cradle he had heen religious, after his kind. In youth 
he had received a peculiar call; wlien lie had joine^I a 
diurch of New York Metliodists, in whose hody he 
hegan liis ministerial career. To use Cragin'8 words, 
** he possessed some excellent tniits of ehanicter; he 
was naturally very aflectionate, kind-hearted, and self- 
sacrificing; he possessed a good intellect; and had ho 
heen well educatetl, and learned tlic spirit ofol>edieneo 
in his youth, he would liave adorned either tlie pulpit 
or the bar." But he lia<l scarcely been at scliool, and 
l»e liad never learned obedience in his youth. AH 
that a lad can learn in tlie street, in the field, and in a 
common school, he knew. lie was great in traflie; 
luut a keen eye to business; lie knew the Bible by 
rote; and lie seldom failed in getting a slice of every 
cut loaf for himself. 

Among the new friends to whom his conversion 
made him known, the Itev. Abram C. found many 
who like<t his keen speech, his firm will, his zeul for 
the salvation of souls. Cold, hard, en<luring — shaqi 
of tongue, prompt in wit, hot for the fray — he breathed 
the very spirit of revival fury. From the moment that 
his bishop granted him a license to preacli, he Iiccanio 
a Yankee 8aint. *'lle went great lengtlis/' says 
Cragin, "in fasting, in praying, in simplicity of dress, 
in frugality and plainness of food, and he carried his 
notion of duty-doing to the topmost round of t)ic legal 

Like most of bib countrymen, he married youug; 


314 snnmwL wivks. 

but his firpt love ditul. Sonic of Ii'ih leaders thou|2:ht 
he Bhonld take a horoiid wife ; and hy their persuasion, 
even more than from liis own inclining, he proposed 
to a young Methodist woman, who, hesides heing tall, 
pretty, and aeeoniplished, had a peculiar and precious 
religious gift. I suppose the girl had tits. She de- 
scribed herself as receiving a sort of angels' visits, 
which disturbed her mind, and reft her limbs of their 
natural strength. After one of these visits, her friends 
would find her on the floor writliing and prostnite. 
Abram lieard of these troubles of the young lady — 
proofs of lier exceeding favor with the higher powcre 
— and being anxious to stand well with the higher 
powers liimself, he j»roposed to their favorite, and was 
happy in his suit. Three children had been born on 
liis heartli, by his first wife; his second wife brought 
liim an infant; but the mother who bore it, in spito 
of lier accomplishments an<l her beauty, brought lier 
husband no peace. In the nu»etings of her church, 
she was all smiles and tears; her heart open to all, her 
voice sofl to all ; but in the privacy of her own house, 
she showed another and darker side of her nature. 
One wIjo lived in the same log-house with her some 
time, described her as a devil's puzzle. She was good 
and kind, hut she had no sense of truth. She couhl 
feel for another's pain, but she coiild see no <liilerence 
between right and wrong. When Abram C got vexed 
with her, as ho otlen did, he would call her *^a solid 
lie." Then, ho would curse in his heart, and even in 
the hearing of his friends, those busybodies in the 
Methodist Church who had driven him, by their false 
praises, into marr}'ing a wretch who had nothing to 
reeommend her but a stately figure, and a pair of very 
bright eyes. 

Such were the two Saint« at Kondout Creek, who 


wore tempting: Gcorgo and Mary Cragin to share their 

'*Mr. Siuitiri^ claiinrt to a sujicrior experience, ami 
to a high po.'^ition in tlie New JoniHaleni Chnivh, now 
hoing organized on earth, were hy no means Bniall. 
Had he not nonnded the depths of Metliodiani ? Ami 
\Vesh»yan IVrleetionisni t<K», — had he not freely ini- 
hihed nntil it Iiad eeaAed to afford him nouriHhnient 
of any kind? 

Tlie winter of 1S40 wan passing away and spring 
coming ronntl. The time for wliich the Cnigins 
liad rented the tenement in Jane Street wouhl 8oon 
expire. The question, tlierefore, where had the Lord 
prepared a phice for them? came np for decision. 

Marv did not seem to ean^ She wanteil to bear 
her <!ro8s, and if it were heavy enongh her heart 
wonid he content, (leorge had nnrsed from his youth 
npwards a more worldly spirit ; and he preferrcil lo see 
some way in wliieh he could earn his daily bread. 
Love nnide a good deal for liim ; but, in his view, 
love itself wouhl he safer for a large supply of hom- 
iny and sfpuish. The (piestitui, therefore, of what the 
Lord was going to provide in the way of food and 
lodgings, came before his mind with some peremptory 

''I had no disposition to live in idleness; I was 
born a worker, so that little credit wsis due to nie for 
my industrious proclivities. Thus far in my career I 
liad worked for my body chiefly. In that career I hud 
been arrested by the same authority that arrested Saul 
of Tarsus, and ordered to expend my powers of in- 
dustry for the benefit of my soul. But how to set 
myself to work in the cause of tlie latter interest, I 
did not understand. I bad a stn)ng desire to leave 
the city, a desire which I now think was an unin8|iired 


one. The voice of tlic Spirit to me douhtlcps was, if 
I could have heard it, • Kcinain in the city till I de- 
liver you, or send you elsewhere. If you go into the 
countr}' you will have trouble in the flesh.' But I had 
not learned to give my attention to the inner voice of 

In the meantime the Hev. Abram C. Smith contin- 
ued to prcAs his kindness on them. 

'*From him/' says (Jeorge, "we had received a 
standing invitation to remove to his residence at lion- 
dout, and join his family, if we could do no better. 
Having accepted him as our teacher, this opening of 
escape from the city seemed auspicious to me." 

At this point it may be well to remember that the 
Kev. Abnun C. Smith was a married man. His wife 
was not a saint, at least, not in her heart of hearts; 
but she was his wife ; and if Mary Craigin was to go 
on a long visit to Kondout, it was well that her pleas- 
ure in the matter should be known^ Kven Abram 0. 
felt that he could hardly ask the Cnigins to share his 
home without making his wife a partner in his suit. 
** Mr. Smith," says George, " for the first time called 
upon us in company with his wife, when the invita- 
tion to join their family was renewed. We were un- 
acMpiaintcd with the real character of this woman. In 
his previous interviews with us, Mr. Smith had said 
\i^K) liule about his wife, that we had almost forgotten 
that he had one. In person, she was prepossessing 
und dignified. She was introduced to us as a newly 
nuide convert to Perfectionism, — a recent fruit of Mr. 
Smith's zealous efforts for the cause. With the 
Methodists she took rank among the Sanctificationists, 
having many times lost her strength by a sudden illu- 
mination fmni some invisible sphere. So she said; 
but she did not say that she had lost her sins by those 


inysterious traneort. Slio failed to im|ire8R me favor- 
ably. Her good looks, her winning smiles, and pro- 
fessionH of dovotion to tlio cause wo loved, wore |k)W- 
orloHs in drawing out my heart or in seonrin;^ my <*on- 
lidonco. IJnt«l as hIic was by Mr. Smith, I 
di8truHted my own imprcRsions, and gave her the right 
liand of followship.'* 

An invitiition which the Cragins expected from an 
older friend than this reverend gentleman and his 
smiling partner failed them. The lease in Jane Street 
liad expired. They had no house of their own. In a 
short time their money would he spent. All their 
old friends had heen estranged from them by their 
change of faith. In a few days tliey would be want- 
ing breail. What wjis to be their fate? As George 
now saw, Abnim*s olter of a refuge from the Ht«»rm 
could hardly be refused. But, even at the last mo- 
ment, Mary felt some doubts. She did not like to 
put herself and her husband into Abranrs ]iower. 
I'erhaps she had seen some spirit in the man before 
which she cpuiiled. 

**1I4)W much/* says George, **we needed wisdom 
from above to direct our steps just then, those only 
can judge who have been placed in similar cireuni* 
stances. Move we must in some direction, and as the 
invitation had been repeated by both Mr. and Mr8. 
Smith with so much apparent sincerity, we eould do 
no less than disregard our own impressions and follow 
our leader somewhat blindly.*' 

Yes, tlio leap was made. "On the seventh of 
March, 1840, tlierefore, our furniture was placed on 
board a sloop bound for Rondout ; and the same cven- 
ii'g ^^y wife, my little ones, and myself, were escorted 
by Mr. Smith to a steamer destined to the same place. 
That voyage was not soon forgotten. Mrs. Cmgiii 


wa8 BO dcpre98C(l in spirit that it wa8 with much diffi- 
culty nlie could control hor f'cerni«;s from finding vent 
in a flood o( tears. Slie afterwards said to nie that 
the moment we <lecided to unite ourselves with the 
family of Mr. Smith, darkness like an impenetrable 
cloud came over her niiml, as though God had with- 
drawn from her soul the light of His fatherly eounte- 
nance. Down to this point in our acquaintance with 
Mr. Smith, Mrs. Cnigin had less confidence in and 
attraction for him than myself. She was now in dis- 
tress of mind. The benevolence of our guide was 
ap{»ealed to. He talked to her with all tlie tenderness 
and eloquence of a sainted minister in the good old 
days of revivals. He won her heart. Mr. Noycs, a 
man whom she had never seen, had, by his inspired 
^'ritings, completely secured her coniidence as one 
raised up of God to lead us into the highway of holi- 
ness. She had been hoping that Mr. Xoyes would 
come to the city and advise us what to do ; and had 
she been in my place, I think she would have written 
to him for the counsel wo so much needed. But 
lacking that advice, she accepted Mr. Smith as his 
representative ; and knowing that I also received him 
in that character, she very naturally, and, unavoidably, 
almost extended to him the same confidence she would 
have done to Mr. Noyee." 




AT lengtli they reached l{oiuh>ut Creek, Iniuled on 
the rough bank facing the village of liondout, 
in UlAter county, and 8a\v the household in the midst 
of which they had come to live. 

*' On arriving at our destination," says George, "wc 
found ournclvcs in a family much larger tluiii our own. 
Mr. iSmith was living with his second wife, by whom he 
had one child. By his former companion he )iad three 
children — a son and two daughtern, two of whom 
were on the verge of maturity. The dwelling ho 
occupied — an ancient stone edifice, erected before the 
first war with Great Britain — stood solitary and alone, 
on the south side of the creek or bay directly opposite 
the village of Kondout, the terminus of the Delaware 
and Hudson canal, and the shipi»ing depot of the 
Lackawana Coal Company. As one of Mr. Smith's 
cardinal virtues was ec(»nomy — carried almost to the 
type of parsimony — we found the interior of the house 
so plainly furnished that an anchorite could not have 
complained of superfluity in furniture, nor of sumptu- 
ousness in the bills of fare. Its frugidity was a re* 
minder of the experience of the early settlers of tlic 
country, often struggling with poverty for the right to 
subsist on terra firma. We had congratulated ourselves 
that we had come down to the minimum of simple, 
plain living, before leaving the city, and were entitled 
to n liberal share of righteousness, if it was to be 

320 snh'ITlWL WIVKS. 

obtuinoil by a procesH nf «»coiioniy in food ami raiment. 
Bnt Mr. Sniitli's pystcni of rotronclunent had now 
thrown o»ir« (Mitiroly into the sliade.** 

In tliis (inll honso, witli thin sombre man, witli thin 
iian^hty woman, the Crap^ins took up their abode. 
The hanl fare, the driving work, were taken as a por- 
tion of tliat crow whieli they liad to bear for tlieir 
souls* sake. The life was not lovely, but it held out 
to them a hope of peace, and it seemed to liave been 
the lot appointed to them of Uod. To Mary this was 
the first and only tliou<;ht; but (Seorge, more active 
and athletic than his wife, soon found a rough animal 
c(»mf(»rt in doing the tasks whicli liis stern employer 
found for him on the farm. 

"Finding myself/' he says, *'at last in the country, 
and on a farm ujton which I was at liberty to expend 
iny jihysieal energies, I was soon enjoying myself 
greatly in following the plough behind a noble old 
borse, whose only defect was that he was as brnnl as 
a bat, with Joshua, a son of Smith, for a rider. The 
ostensible business which Smith pursued at that time 
was that of forcnum of a gang of hands on the oppo- 
site side of the river engaged in numufacturing lime 
and cement. Tlie farm we lived upon was nominally 
owned by a brother of Mr. Smith, who allowed him 
the use of it at a moderate rent. The time of the 
latter was already nmch occupie<l, and my attraction 
being for agricultural pursuits, he placed me in charge 
of the farm department, while he continued in his 
position as agent and overseer for the lime company. 

"Possessing communistic ideas and proclivities, we 
thus made a slight attempt to carry out the Pentecostal 
spirit of holding all things in common. For a wliile, 
our associative eftbrt bade fair to be a success, so far 
as out-door business and self-support were eoneerne<l. 


I very soon became much absorheil in my new avoca- 
tion. Tiiis suited Smith, as he had earned the repa- 
tiition of bein«( a <jjroat worker liiniHelf, as well uh of 
posBcssing a faculty for keeping tlio^e under him 
pretty constantly enipIoye<l. 80, with tlie blind horse 
and the lad Joshuii, the ex-merchant^ publisher, and 
reformer considered himself in favorable circumstances 
to secure, what few seemed to prize, the riches of god- 
liness and contentment." 

Contentment! Was he content? Were tlic others 
content? lie wa8 much in love with his wife, and 
perhaps he was a little jealous of the Kev. Abram C. 
But he felt sure of Mary; and he was only just begin- 
ning to find, through the Iiints of Abram C, tliat he 
had in himself u very bad spirit, which ho should 
strive to cast out with all liis might His love for 
Mary was too hot and blind ; it was a snare of the 
devil; it breathed the very soul of self; and was the 
sign of an unregcnerate heart That lovo would drive 
liim away from God. 

Qeorge felt sorry and ashamed. He knew that he 
loved liis wife beyond every earthly good; for was she 
not his nurse, his guide, his queen, the light of his 
eye, the joy of his heart, the pride of his intellect? 
So far, he had not been able to see that in loving her 
for her worth and beauty, ho was doing any harm. 
The example set by his new teachei*s at Uondout rather 
pained than cdiKed him. 

'* Between Mr. and Mrs. Smith, we soon discovered 
uo harmony existed. Indeed, there was manifestly 
positive alienation. A house divided against itt^elf 
was not likely to otFcr a very peaceful retreat in which 
to pursue our studies as pupils in the school of fuith. 
Mrs. Smith was now Mrs. Smith at honu^ not abroad. 
When she called upon us in the city, she presonteU 




herself in a cliaractor not lier own, that of a meek and 
lowly Christian. She had no longer an occasion for 
snch a dresfl. If it was i»ut on as a bait to attract us 
to Kondout, it was a success.*' 

It was not long before the bickering between the 
Kcv. Abrani C. and his wife came to an open quarrel ; 
and GiMM'gc soon found some reasons for suspecting 
that another and prettier woman was the active, though 
ehe may have been at first the unconscious, cause of 
this domestic fray. 

**My relation to Mr. Smith up to this time was that 
of a son to a father. I had from the iirstfelt the need 
of a teacher. The want was born in me, and I hati 
heartily accepted Mr. Smitli to fill that office. For a 
while things appeared to go on smoothly enough so 
far as outdoor business was concerned ; but interiorly 
there were indications of stormy weather. In the 
region of my solar-plexus, counter-currents were flow- 
ing, causing perturbations of an unpleasant character. 
The tii'st change that attracted my attention was some- 
thing like coolness on the part of Mr. Smith toward 
myself It was nirely now that he had any commu- 
nication with me except in planning the outdoor bus- 
iness. On the other hand, his communications with 
Mrs. Cragin were more and more frequent and private. 
Did I discover a corresponding change of coolness on 
the part of Mrs. Cragin, or was it a distorted imagi- 

By this time, (Jeorge had made a pretty long step 
in his religious knowledge. He had been thinking 
over the doctrine of renunciation ; had talked about 
it to Abram and Mar}' ; and had come to see that the 
command to give up house and land, wife and child, 
might be understood in a literal sense, as a duty laid 
uiK>n all the children of grace. 


jaro. In felling tinil)cr, in slitting rails, in trcncliing 
iiolds, in digging wells, in raising shanties, very few 
workmen could compete witli Abram C Like nearly 
all Yankee lads, he was a man while yet a boy; free 
of the world, the flesh, and tlie devil in liis teens; 
loud, pinched, eager, resolute, talkative. From his 
cradle he liad been religious, after liis kind. In youth 
he had received a peculiar call ; when he had joined a 
church of New York Methoilists, in wliose Innly he 
began his ministerial career. To use Cragin's words, 
** he possessed some excellent tniits of ehanicter; he 
was naturally very aflectionate, kind-hearted, and sclf- 
sacriticing; lie possessed a good intellect; and had ho 
been well educated, an<l learned the spirit of obedienco 
in his youth, lie wouhl have adorned either the pulpit 
or the bar." But he had scarcely been at school, and 
he had never learned obedience in his youth. AH 
that a lad can learn in the street, in the field, and in a 
common school, he knew. lie was great in tmflic; 
luid a keen eye to business; he knew the Bible by 
rote; and he seldom failed in getting a slice of every 
cut loaf for himself. 

Among the new friends to whom his conversion 
nuule him known, the Itev. Abram (/. found many 
who liked his keen speech, his firm will, his zeal fur 
the salvation of souls. Cold, hard, enduring — shaqi 
t>t' tongue, prompt in wit, hot for the fray — he breathed 
the very spirit of revival fury. From the moment that 
his bishop granted him a license to preach, he bccanio 
a Yankee Saint *'lle went great lengtlis," says 
Cragin, '*in fasting, in praying, in simplicity of drosd, 
in frugality and plainness of food, and he carried hiu 
notion of duty-doing to the topmost round of t)ic legal 

Like must of bib countrymen, he married youug; 


14 snniTrAL wives. 

hut hi8 first love ditul. Sonic of IiIh lenders thought 
he BhoiiM take a hecond wife ; and h\ their persuasion, 
even more than from liis own inclining, he proposed 
to a young Methodist woman, who, hesides being tall, 
pretty, and aceomplislied, had a peculiar and precious 
religious gift. I suppose the girl had tits. She de- 
scribed herself as receiving a sort of angels' visits, 
which disturbed her mind, ami reft her limbs of thojr 
natural strength. After one of these visits, her friends 
would find her on the floor writhing and prostrate. 
Abram lieard of these troiibles of the young lady — 
proofs of her exceeding favor with the higher powcre 
— and beinij anxious to stand well with the hiffher 
powers liimself, he proposed to their favorite, an<l was 
happy in his suit. Three children had been born on 
Ills liearth, by his first wife; his second wife brought 
liim an inf*ant; but the mother who bore it, in spito 
of lier acconiplishments an<l her beauty, brought her 
husband no peace. In the meetings of her church, 
she was all smiles and tears; her heart open to all, her 
voice sofl to all ; but in the privacy of her own house, 
she showed another and darker side of her nature. 
One who lived in the same log-house with her some 
time, described her as a devil's puzzle. She was good 
and kind, hut she had no sense of truth. She could 
feel for another's pain, Imt she eould see no <lillerence 
between right and wrong. When Abram C. got vexed 
with her, as ho otlen did, he would call her *^a solid 
lie." Then, he would curse in his heart, and even in 
the hearing of his friends, those busybodies in the 
Methodist Church who had driven him, by their false 
praises, into marr}'ing a wretch who had nothing to 
recommend her but a stately figure, and a pair of very 
bright eyes. 
Such were the two Saints at liondout Creek, who 


wore tomptinp: Gcorgo and Mary Cnigiii to eharc their 

''Mr. Siuitir^ claiiurt to a superior experience, uuil 
to u high position in the Xew Jerusalem Chuivh, now 
hoing organized on earth, were by no means Kniall. 
IIa<l he not Houn<le(l the depths of Methodiani ? And 
WosK'yan iVrleetionisni t<M», — haid he not freely ini- 
hihod until it had eesiAed to afford him noui*iHhnient 
of any kind? 

Tlie winter of 1S40 was passing away and spring 
coming round. The time for wliich the Cragins 
Inid rented tlie tenement in Jane Street would iuK)n 
expire. The (piestion, therefore, where had the Lord 
prepared a place for them? came up for decision. 

Marv tlid not seem to care. She wanted to bear 
her cross, and if it were heavy enough her heart 
would be content. (leorge had nursed from bis youth 
upwards a more worldly spirit ; and he preferrcil to see 
some way in wliich be could earn bis daily bread. 
Love nnide a goo<l deal for liim ; but, in bis view, 
love itself won hi be safer for a large supply of hom- 
iny and squash. The (picstion, therefore, of what the 
Lord was going to provide in the way of food and 
lodgings, came before his mind with some peremptory 

''I had no disposition to live in idleness; I was 
born a worker, so that little credit was due to mo for 
my industrious proclivities. Thus far in my career I 
liad worked for my body chiefly. In that career I hud 
been arrested by the same authority that arrested Saul 
of Tarsus, and ordered to expend my powers of in- 
dustry for the benefit of my soul. Bift bow to 8ct 
myself to work in the cause of the latter interest, I 
did not understand. I had a stning desire to leave 
the city, a desire which I now think was an unin8|iired 


one. The voice of the Spirit to me douhtlcBS was, if 
I could have heard it, * Keinaiii in the city till I de- 
liver you, or send you elsewhere. If you go into the 
countiy you will have trouble in the flesli.* But I had 
not learned to give my attention to the inner voice of 

In the meantime the Hev. Abram C. Smith contin- 
ued to prcHs hifl kindness on them. 

"From hin»,*' says (Jeorge, "we had received a 
standing invitsttion to remove to his residence at lion- 
dout, and join his family, if we could do no better. 
Having accepted him as our teacher, this opening of 
escape from the city seemed auspicious to me.** 

At this point it nuiy be well to remember that the 
l{ev. Abram C. Smith was a nnirried man. His wife 
was not a saint, at least, not in her heart of hearts ; 
but she was his wife; and if Mary Cragin was to go 
on a long visit to Rondout, it was well that her pleas- 
ure in the nnitter should be known^ Kven Abram 0. 
felt that he could hardly ask the Cragins to share his 
home without making his wife a partner in his suit. 
** Mr. Smith,** says George, " for the first time calletl 
upon us in company with his wife, when the invita- 
tion to join their family was renewed. We were un- 
ac^uuintod with the real character of this woman. In 
his previous interviews with us, Mr. Smith had said 
ti^o little about his wife, that we had almost forgotten 
that he had one. In person, she was prepossessing 
und dignified. She was introduced to us as a newly 
made convert to Terfectionism, — a recent fruit of Mr. 
Smith's zealous efforts for the cause. With the 
Methodists she took rank among the Sanctificationists, 
having many times lost her strength by a sudden illu- 
mination fn>m Homo invisible sphere. So she said; 
but she di4l not saty that she had lost her sins by those 

AllRAM i\ SMITH 317 

mysterious trances. iSIm* fuiled to iinpresR me favor- 
ably. Her good looks, )ier winning smiles, ainl pro- 
tessions of ilovotion to the oaiise we loved, wore pow- 
erless in drawing oi]t my heart or in securing my con- 
lidcnce. IJut indorsed as she was hy Mr. Smitli, I 
distrusted my own impressions, and gawc her tlic right 
liand of fellowsliip." 

An inviUition which the Cragins expected from an 
older friend than this reverend gentleman and bis 
smiling partner failed them. The lease in Jane Street 
had cxpircil. They had no house of their own. In a 
short time their money would he spent. All their 
old friends had been estranged from them by their 
change of faith. In a few chiys they would be want- 
ing bread. What was to be their fate? As George 
now saw, Abram's offer of a refuge from the st€»rm 
could hardly be refused. But, even at the last mo- 
ment, Mary felt some doubts. She did not like to 
put herself and her husband into Abram*s jiower. 
I'erhaps she had seen some spirit in the man before 
which she (pniiled. 

**1I4)W mueli/* says (ieorge, *'we needed wisdom 
from above to direct our steps just then, those only 
can judge who haive been placed in similar cireuiu* 
stances. Move we must in some direction, and us the 
invitation had been repeated by both Mr. and Mr8. 
iSmith with so much apparent sincerity, we eould do 
no less than disregard our own impressions and follow 
our leader somewhat blindly." 

Yes, the leap was made. **0n the seventh of 
March, 1840, tlierefore, our furniture was placed on 
board u sloop bound for Rondout ; and the same even- 
ing my wife, my little ones, and myself, were CBeorted 
by Mr. Smith to a steamer destined to the same place. 
That voyage was not soon forgotten. Mrs. Cmgia 


was BO depressed in spirit tliat it was with much diffi- 
culty nlie foiild control lior teelinijH from finding vent 
in a flood (»f tears. 8lie afterwards said to me that 
the moment we deci<Ie<l to unite ourselves with the 
family of Mr. Smith, darkness like an impenetrahle 
cloud came over her mind, as though God had with- 
drawn from her soul the light of His fatherly counte- 
nance. Down to this ]ioint in our acquaintance with 
Mr. Smith, Mrs. Cnigin had less confidence in and 
attraction for him than myself. She was now in dis- 
tress of mind. The henevolenco of our guide was 
appealed to. lie tidked to her with all the tenderness 
and eloquence of a sainted minister in the good old 
days of revivals. Ho won her heart. Mr. Noycs, a 
man whom she had never seen, had, hy his inspired 
writings, completely secured her confidence as one 
raised up of God to lead us into the highway of holi- 
ness. She had been hoping tliat Mr. Noyes would 
come to the city and advise us what to do ; and had 
she been in my place, I think she would Iiave written 
to him for the counsel wo so much needed. But 
lacking that advice, she accepted Mr. Smith as his 
representative ; and knowing that I also received him 
in that character, she very naturally, and, unavoidably, 
almost extended to him the same confidence she would 
have done to Mr. Noyes.*' 




AT lengtli tliey rcafhec] Koiulout Creek, In tided on 
the rough bank fuciiig tlie village of Itoiidout, 
in UUter county, and naw the houschohl in the midid 
of which they had come to live. 

'* On arriving at our destination/* nays George, **wc 
found ourselves in a family much larger tlian our own. 
Mr. Smith was living with hin second wife, by whom he 
liad one child. By his former companion ho had three 
children — a son and two daughters, two of whom 
were on the verge of maturity. The dwelling lie 
occupied — an ancient stone edifice, erected before the 
first war with Great Britain — stood solitary and alone, 
on the south side of the creek or bay directly opposite 
the village of Kondout, the terminus of the Delaware 
and Hudson canal, and the shipping depot of the 
Lackawana Coal Company. As one of Mr. Smith's 
cardinal virtues was economy — carried almost to the 
type of parsiniony — we found the interior of the house 
so plainly furnished that an anchr^rito could not have 
complained of superfluity in furniture, nor of sumptu- 
ousness in the bills of fare. Its frugality was a re* 
minder of the experience of the early settlers of tlie 
country, otTten struggling with poverty for tho riglit to 
subsist on terra firma. We had congratulated ourselves 
that we had come down to the minimum of simple, 
plain living, before leaving the city, and were cntitle<l 
to a liberal share of righteousness, if it was to be 

320 srnnriWL wivks. 

obtuinod by a pnujoss of economy in food and raiment. 
But Mr. Smith's pystoni of rotronchment had now 
thrown onrs entirely into the shade.*' 

Tn this dull ]ionse, with this sombre man, with this 
lian^hty woman, the Crajfiiis took up their aliode. 
The hanl fare, the driving work, were taken as a por- 
tion of that emss whieh they liad to bear for their 
souls' sake. The life was not lovely, I)Ut it held out 
to them a hope of peaee, and it seemed to Iiavc been 
the lot api»ointed to tljem of Ciod. To Mary tliis was 
the first and only thou^^ht; but (Jeorge, more active 
and athletic than his wife, soon found a rough animal 
comfort in doing the tasks which his stem employer 
found for him on the farm. 

" Fintling myself/* he says, **at last in the country, 
and on a farm upon which I was at liberty to ex])encl 
my j»hysical energies, I was soon enjoying myself 
greatly in following the plough behind a noble ohi 
liorse, whose only defect was that he was as brnul as 
a bat, with Joshua, a son of Smith, for a rider. The 
ostensible business which Smith pursued at that time 
was that of forenum of a gang of hands on the oppo- 
site side of the river engaged in manufaeturing lime 
and cement. The farm we lived upon was nominally 
owned by a brother of Mr. Smith, who allowed him 
the use of it at a moderate rent. The time of the 
latter was already much occupied, and my attraction 
being for agricultural pursuits, he phiced me in charge 
of the farm dejiartment, while he continued in his 
position as agent an<l overseer for the lime company. 

"Possessing communistic ideas and proclivities, wo 
thus made a slight attempt to carry out the Pentecostal 
spirit of holding all things in eommon. For a while, 
our ossoeiative effort bade fair to be a success, so far 
00 out-door business and sclf-suppoil were coneerned. 


I vcrj* soon became much absorbed in n\y new avoca- 
tion. This suited Sniitb, as he had earned the repu* 
tntion of bein»ij a great worker hinKself, as woU as of 
possessing a I'aculty for keeping those under liiin 
pretty constantly eniploye<i. 80, with the blind horse 
and the hid Josliua, the ex-niereliant^ publisher, and 
reformer considered liimself in favorable eircumstancca 
to secure, what few seemed to prize, the riches of god- 
liness and contentment." 

Contentment! Was he content? Were the others 
content? He was much in love with his wife, and 
perhaps he was a little jealous of tlie Rev. Abram C. 
But he felt sure of Mary; and he was only just begin- 
ning to iind, through the hints of Abram C, that he 
had in himself u very bad spirit, which he should 
strive to cast out with all his might. His love for 
Mary was too hot and blind ; it was a snare of the 
devil; it breathed the very soul of self; and was the 
sign of an unregenerate heart. That love would drive 
him away from God. 

George felt sorry and ashamed. He knew that he 
loved his wife beyond every earthly good ; for was she 
not his nurse, his guide, his queen, the light of his 
eye, the joy of his heart, the pride of his intellect? 
So far, he had not been able to see that in loving Iier 
for her worth and beauty, ho was doing any harm. 
The exam[)le set by his new teachei*s at Itondout rather 
pained than edlKed him. 

"Between Mr. and Mrs. Smith, we s(x>n discovered 

uo harmony existed. Indeed, there was nmnifestly 

positive alienation. A house divided against itself 

was not likely to offer a very peaceful retreat in which 

to pursue our studies as pupils in the school of faith. 

. Mrs. Smith was now Mrs. Smith at honu^ not ubrr>ad. 

When she called upon us in the city, she presented 



liorflcif ill a charactor not her own, that of a meek and 
lowly Christian. She had no longer an occasion for 
Bnch a (ire88. If it was put on as a bait to attract U8 
to Kondout, it was a success.** 

It was not long before the bickering between the 
]{ev. Abran) C. and his wife came to an open quarrel ; 
and Goorgc soon found some reasons for suspecting 
that another and prettier wonnm was the active, though 
she may have been at first the unconscious, cause of 
this domestic fray. 

**My relation to Mr. Smith up to this time was that 
of a son to a father. I had from the first felt the need 
of a teacher. The want was born in me, and I ha<I 
heartily accepted Mr. Smith to fill tliat office. For a 
while things appeared to go on smoothly enough so 
far as outdoor business was concerned ; but interiorly 
tlicre were indications of stormy weather. In the 
region of my solar-plexus, counter-currents were flow- 
ing, causing perturbations of an unpleasant character. 
The fii'st change that attracted njy attention was some- 
thing like coolness on the part of Mr. Smith toward 
myself It was nirely now that he had any conmiu- 
nication with me except in planning the outdoor bus- 
iness. On the other hand, his communications with 
Mrs. Cragin were more and more frequent and private. 
Did I discover a corresponding change of coolness on 
the ])art of Mrs. Cragin, or was it a distorted imagi- 
nation ? ** 

By this time, Cicorge had made a jirctty long step 
in his religious knowledge. He had been thinking 
over the doctrine of renunciation ; had talked about 
it to Abram and Mar}' ; and had come to see that tlie 
command to give up house and land, wife and child, 
might be understood in a literal sense, as a duty laid 
u|K)n all tlic children of gi*ace. 

Tlius it happenc*! that when 1k» hoj^an to a»k him- 
Bcif, an he trn<lgcMl after the plouirh, how thin<>;i« were 
going on within doors, he coul<l not help feeling that 
something more war^ expected from him by hi« teaelior, 
if n<>t aUo by hia wife, than n mere micrifiee of tbrni. 
Wliat did they want? Above all, wliat did his idol 
wi:»h him to <lo? As lie dwelt uimhi their life before 
they had come to Uondont Creek and after, he etmld 
not help seeing that there had been aehange with him 
fur the worse. Mary lia<l become silent and judicial; 
a new and very suspicions state of mind for her. 

**She h:is very little to say to me," he said to him- 
self, ** except in the way of criticism of a spirit in mc 
which claims her iifleetions." Why should he not 
claim them? "That," says (George, ** was my weak 
point. I was stricken by the feeling of self-condem- 
nation that came u[»on me.'* And then, he forced 
himself into a confession which was obviously foreign 
to his character. ** Freely and sincerely would I 
admit myself and others that in the sight of Go<l I 
could claim in Mrs. Cragin no exclusive private projv 
erty or privilege. That in forsaking all for Christy as 
I claim to have done, my wife was include<l. 80 
much was logically clear and conclusive to my under- 
standing." All this philosophy, I innigine, was the 
growth of later ycjxrs. The true feelings of his heart 
broke out: "But my feelings, like wilful, disobc<Iient 
children, would listen to no such reasoning. Being 
thus in bondage to irrational influences over which I 
had no power of control, I had all I could do to keep 
niy own head above water without paying much at- 
tention to the conduct of others." But then, he could 
uot leave the thing indoors alone. The thought of 
what his teaclier might be saying to his wife confused 
his soul, uud made bis Land unsteady on tbo plough. 

324 srininrAL wives. 

Yet lie lijul no Htrength to fiiee liin master, and to pro- 
tect his wife. Had the reverend f^entleman been a 
single man, Cnigin might have fallen a passive victim 
to hi^< force of will. Bnt, in the haughty mistress at 
Kondont Creek, he found an ally on whom ho had not 

'*Mr. Smith proved himself an unwise, unskilful 
general in attempting the management of forces over 
which he had l)Ut a limited control. While he had 
found in Mrs. Cragin an ally, a sweetheart, and a very 
lovable associate, and apprehen<Ie<l no trouble from 
me, seeing that I was fast bound in chains of self-con- 
demnation, he had not counte<I the cost of leaving his 
wife as an enemy in the rear, with the disposition and 
the means of causing him serious trouble. It is 
barely possible, however, that he had counted on an 
affaire d*amour between his wife and myself, which, 
hacl it happened, there is no telling what the results 
wouhl have been, though they would probably liave 
been no better, but much worse. But I was in no 
state to fall in love with another woman. I had 
trouble enough on hand already, without contracting a 
debt for more, to be paid for at some future judgment- 
day. I liad business enough on band, too, to get out 
of the idolatrous love for my wife, that I had been fall- 
ing into for years, until it seemed at times as though I 
liad got into the bottondess pit, where the more I 
struggled to get out, the deeper I sank into hopeless 




AT Oneichi Creek I was fitrnek by the keen frank- 
nes.H with wliirJi my youn«^ doctor of niedicino 
tohl mc the ntory of his passionrt; that yoiinij doctor 
was Cieor;^^ C'ra^in, son of the (Jeor^e an<l Mary C'ni- 
^in, whose stoiy I am nowtellin^j from his father's 
notes. I then felt and said that his little history of 
one human heart was the strangest tiling I ]iad ever 
either heard or read. The father's tale is certainly 
not less strange. 

** Regardless of consequences," George continues, 
'*Mr. Smith succee<led in compelling his wife to leave 
his house and take refuge over the Creek among her 
relatives. A more rash, inconsidenite act could not 
luive heen <lone, except by one wholly divested of 
reason ; and the motive of it soon became apparent. 

** During the first week in May, the n»lation between 
Mr. Smith and Mrs. Cnigin had assume<I the character 
of spiritual love, of the novelist type. It wjis not so 
much hatred of his wife which had caused him to 
turn her out-of-doors, as a fierce, cra/-y, amative pas- 
sion — I cannot call it love — for my wife, whom lie 
had already in spirit appropriated to himself. But ho 
played his cards skilfully, for he so managed his hand 
as to throw all the responsibility of his intimacy with 
Mrs. Cragin up4)n myself. For instance, he t<dd her 
one evening to feign distress (»f mind, or something 
to that effect, and to ask permission of mc to repair 


32G srii:m'AL \vm:s, 

to liis room Inr si»iritnnl ndviro. My wife wa« ro 
completely inn^iieti/.rfl l)y him and under hi« power, 
that she woiUd do ahiioMt anytliing he bade her. Ac- 
eonlingly, she ol)tained my eoni*ent; and when «lic 
returned to me, no harm was <h)ne. nniortnnately, 
the pamc sort of rea!«on wa« pleaded the following 
night. My CfO<l, I s»aid to mywelf, where i« thi?* thing 
to end? Arc all tliej^e operations nee<led to eure me 
of the marriage Hpirit? Munt others do evil that I 
may get good ? 

"Well, Mr. Smith said, my case wa.s a desperate 
one, and desperate remedies had to he applied. Yet 
it did n<»t suit me — even though my consent was 
given — to take medicine hy proxy. Moreover, I did 
not really helieve that Mr. Smith was at all anxious 
for my recovery, if that event wouhl require a discon- 
tinuance of the pn»xy medicine. Kut my chief <liffi- 
culty and the cause of my greatest distress was at- 
trihutahle to a <listrust of my physician. Was he duly 
authorized hy the powers above to pursue the course he had 
adopted? Serious douhts assailed me, so powerfully 
that it was in vain to resist them. Inwardly I prayecl, 
and most earnestly too, for a change of <loctors, or at 
least a council of medical savans^ to take my ease iu 

His prayer was answered. John II. Xoyes with two 
other Saints, came down from Vermont to New York 
to attend the Mav meetin^^s. It was the second week 
in May. On their arrival in New York, Noyes felt 
troubled in his mind about the doings of his disciple, 
Abram C. Smith, at Kondout Creek, where things 
were looking rather black. Mrs. Abram C. was not 
the kind of woman to bear her injuries in peace; in 
fact, she ha<l made so loud a noise about her wrongs, 
that the rough woodmen and watermen of Hondout 


village had boon ntung into threats of crossing the 
creek in heats aTid making a niiclnight rail on the 
Saintrt. Xoye.s had heanl some niincu* of these threat*. 
•* Anvhow/* lie 8ai<l to his two friends in New York, 
**Iam afraiil there is* misohief at work in Smith's 
family,'* and hinted that they would do well in going 
U]> the irudrt4>n Kiver to that i»hu-e. Noyes arrived at 
liondont Creek in time to ]»revent lo.s« t»f life ; for a 
warrant had been issued that day in Kingston, the 
nearest town, against the Kev. Ahram C. for a hreaeh 
of the peace in turning his wife out-of-doors; und the 
whole ]u)]>ulation of Kouilout village Avas arming itself 
with axe and torch, with tar and feathers, to redress 
the woman*8 wrongs. An attack on the Btonc Iiouso 
was cxpecte*! every liour. What was to be done? 
Should they stand their ground and fight it out with 
the mob? Abram O. was all for war. To barrie^idc 
the house, to arm his people, and to resist his invaders 
to the death, would have l)een his policy. Noye« took 
the opposite ground — Peace with the outt^ido world, 
criticism and sincerity among youi'selves, was Iiis 
prompt advice. News tlew across the Creek into the 
village that a ])eacemaker was at work, and no one 
stirred against the house that night. Noyes recom- 
mended Abram to submit ; to obey the judge's warrant ; 
and, in fact, to go across to Kingston and deliver him- 
self up. Smith was rude and stiff; but in the end lie 
saw that uidess he gave way to the police he wouUl bo 
murdered by the mob. This i>oint being earrietl. 
Father Noyes inquired into the state of things in the 
house, and rebuked Smith sharply for the course ho 
had taken with his wife. The facts were then brought 
out in regard to the intimacy which had sprung up 
between Smith and Marj* Cragin. The facts were 
only too clear, in whatever way they were to be judged. 


George, I think, came oft* the worst of the three. To 
use his own wonls : '* They were udinoninhed fiiithfully, 
but in love. A chiiniinif, Ic^i^al spirit in nie was the 
Bcape-^oat upon wlioni the sins of both parties were 
laid. I joined with t]ie rest in denouncing the spirit 
of Icgahty, and freely forgave Mr. Smith and Mrs. 
Cragin, considering myself (piite asmucli in the wrong 
as tliemsclves, for wliat had passed." 

Things being placed on this footing for the past, the 
little colony of saints and sinners spent the evening in 
listening to Noyes. lie criticised Perfectit^nists gener- 
ally for a spirit of un teachableness and a lack of hu- 
mility, lie also commented on sucli passages as these : 
** All things are lawful for nje, but all things are not 
expedient; all filings are lawful for me, but all things 
edify not;" *'Let no man seek his own ; " "The law 
was made for the lawless and disobedient;" "The hnv 
was given by Moses, but gnice an<l truth came by 
Jesus Christ." Noyes said he had entered the higher 
8<;hool of Christ who taught by grace and truth. The 
lower law school of Moses was still good for people 
who were still barbarians and half-civilized, who were 
yet too coarse to comi»rehen<l and ajipreciate the power 
of truth as a refining element. When believei's arc 
HufKciently refined to receive the spiritual truth tiiught 
by Christ and Paul, it enters into them, changes their 
disposition, and thus secures in them obedience to the 
divine will. 

"I felt myself," says George, "richly rewarded for 
all the petty trials I had thus far endured ; was willing, 
I thought, to pay any price for the full and free salva- 
tion which Christ had brought into the world. To 
forsake all for Ilim — wife included^ as well as all other 
valuables, or whatever our attachments had converted 
into valuables — had now with me a matter-of-fact 

Tin: SELFISH srmir. 329 

moaninc^ timt I wur jiint bo<^iniiing to niidonitaiicl. 
Wlien Chri«t Kai<l, *Kxoe|»t Jiinaii liato father, niotlicr, 
wife and chil<Iren,yca, and liisown life also, he cannot 
be my diflciple/ he fired a hall into the very centre 
and heart of the niarriat^e and family spirit. I had 
heen hit, and the egotistical marriage spirit waa 
bleeding at every pore." 

The next day Xoyes went over with George and 
Ahrani C. to Kingi^ton, two niilea fmm Ron<hint, and 
nettled with the magistrate of tlmt place who Iiad 
issued tlie warrant for liis arrest ; giving bondA that 
Smith slionid in future keep the peace and HUpiK)rt liia 
wife. But the bad spirit in the village of Itondout 
was not Cjuelled. Some of the rough lads wanted a 
spree; and to the wihl spirits of tlie river-side very 
few amusements ottered so much tun as tarring and 
feathering a couple of preachers in a good cause. 
Again a council was held in the stone house. Noyea, 
whose voice was still for peace, projjosed to leave 
towards evening for his home, taking Smith and Iiis 
eldest daughter along with him to Vermont. This 
]»lan was accordingl}- acted upon. Noyes thought that 
as tlie mob regarded Smith as the cliief offender, his 
absence might jmcify their feelings so as to allow 
of the other members of the family remaining in i>eace. 
And such was the fact. George rowed the company 
to Kingston Point, where they were to embark on 
board a steamer for Albany. On returning to the 
liouse early in the evening, he found everything quiet. 
No demonstrations were to be either seen or hearvl ; 
and George and Mary wore now lefl alone — the idol- 
ater and his idol. *' During Mr. Smith's absence/' 
Bays George, "I had a time of repose and sober reflec- 
tion. My past trials, the dangers encountered, the 
visit from Mr. Noyes, and many other stirring events* 



flccme<l much more like a dresim or a story of fiction 
tlian a reality. Tlic talks, too, cjiven us by Mr. Noyea 
duriii^r his brief Rojourn with us, broui'ht an influence 
of life. I was remindoil of the words of another 
Teaclier, who naid to a ]>enitent oftender, 'Neither do 
I con<lenin thee; go and sin no more.* 

'* I had been Hubordinate to Mr. Smith, and ]iad 
confided in him, up to the time of this visit from Mr. 
Noyes. But when I refle<ited upon his return, an un- 
pleasant Hensation came over mo. Had lie been tlio 
occasion of much suifering to me, and was I afraid of 
more ? After an absence of two weeks, Mr. Smith was 
again at home. I was much p1ease<I to see him again 
in our family. Mr. Noyes, Avhile with us, advised that 
there should bo no further intima<*y or speciid con- 
ferences between Mr. Smith and Mrs. Cragin ; repeat- 
ing what he had said three years before in the Battle- 
Axe letter, viz., * Woo to him who abolishes tho law 
of the apostasy, before ho stands in the holiness of tho 
resurrection.* Believing that tho advico would bo 
faithfully followed, I looked for greater unity and 
more fellowship than ever between Mr. Smith, Mrs. 
Cragin, and myself. In this exi»ectation, however, I 
was sadly disa])pointed. It was but a few days before 
lie commenced a game of hypocrisy, that was carried 
on for weeks before it came to the light. In my pres- 
ence, ]io would talk in his peculiarly sanctimonious 
or methodistical style, clothing his ideas in mystical 
language, having no other end in view, probably, than 
tho blinding of eyes that might possibly discover tho 
imposition tho tempter was inciting him to practice 
upon comparatively innocent victims. When alone 
with Mrs. Cragin, his talk was altogether of another 
type. Before he could recover his power over her, ho 
must iu some way regain her confidence. lie was well 


aware that Mr«. (^-ati^in's coniiclciico in Mr. Noyo« wa« 
greatly 8tren|:thene(l by his hist vii*it to iis. So it 
would not do to attempt to undonninc iior foundation 
of firm faith in the leader of New Haven rerfeetionisiu. 
To aeeomjilish his end, therefore, he mu!«t nnike it 
appear to her that he, Smith, had the eontidence of 
Mr. Noyes to the fullest extent; and, hein<^ an adept 
in throwini^ out inninnations and eni<^nui8, he bepm 
the game hy hinting to her that Mr. Noyc« virtually 
ai»proved of their pa^^t proeeedingn; and that his lato 
disapproval and puhlic eritieism of their aets was 
ehielly for my benefit. 

" While thus playing a snceessful game in winning 
baek his power over my wife, ho reftcirted to his old 
triek of keeping me in a harmless, helpless condition, 
by loading me down heavily with hanl work, self-con- 
demnation, and evil-thinking. Unwittingly he was 
helping me. The pressure thus put uihui me stirred 
up all tlie earnestness within me to find the justifica- 
tion and peace of Christ. With my views of the great 
salvation of God, I verv well understood that /could 
not carry the nuirriage spirit with me into the heavenly 
kingdom, if Mr. Smith could; neither could I avoid 
making the discovery that he was freigliting his bargo 
Avith the same commodity that I was thr<»wing uver- 
Itoard. However, my business was now with Gml, 
and not with man. The victory that I was daily 
praying for was a reconciliation with God, and eon* 
tentmeut in liis service. And that victory came at 
last. Laboring alone in the field, I Iiad a new view 
of,God*s infinite goodness and mercy. The humanity 
of God, so to speak, in the sacrifice of His only beloved 
Son on the cross for the redemption of the world, w*u8 
so glorious an exhibition of His disintereste<l love, 
that my egotism seemed to vanish like darkness before 


tlie risin;; «w". My lioavy hiirdeiis aiul great Borrow 
were nil gone. I exclaimed aloud, 'My God and my 
Father I I can sufler for ever, and yet he for ever 
happy in boholdinic Thy great and pure love to man- 
kind.* Evil-thinking of my wife and Mr. Smith had 
been taken from me. I was at peace with my circum- 
stances and everybody al>out me/' 



&EORGE CUAGIN did not know how far the thing 
had gone between his wife and the Ticv. Abram 
C. Smith. He knew that they had done w'rong, — 
done that for whieh the law would have given him 
swift reclress. He did not know that these two beingrt 
]iad actually gone through a form of marriage, an<I 
liad pledged their houIs to each other for a partnernliip 
of love, through all eternity. Yet that was the fact. 
The Kev. gentleman had juTsuaded Mary that neither 
his dea<l wife nor \m living wife was the natural mate 
of hin 84)ul, and that she, Mary Cragin, was tliat mate. 
Mary seems to have striven long against this dogma, 
though she succumbed at last; and their heavenly 
bridals had been duly performed. 

Late in the summer Abram had to go out preaching. 
Some Saints fix)m Pennsylvania came to Kondout, and 
it was agreed that Abram should go back with them 
to their country, passing through New York. Smith 
desired that Mary should accompany the Saints down 


the river, wliorc n week in the city wonhl gnvo her a 
pleasant (*han<;e. True t«> \iU erafly npirit, Ahnim 
contrived that the tirnt hint t\»r 8ueh a journey ^houUl 
jiroeced from (te«)r^e, who wad wrought ujh)ii by a 
thinl person to nnike it, a8 hi.s wite wouhl not other- 
wise think of such a course. (ieor<jce saw tiiat she 
wished to jLTo, though, ait the moment of leuvin<^ with 
tliese religious friends, she pause^l and nighed, ua 
though she would even then turn back. In the end, 
adieus were miid, and the parties went on boanl the 

** When nearly a week had juissed,** 8ay8 (Jeorgc, 
** I received a few lines from my wife, saying that she 
intended to leave for Iiome the next evening, and 
should be happy to meet me on the arrival of the l>oat 
at iiondout. That letter, although very sliort, affected 
me strangely. It was not the It'tteTy but the spirit or 
magnetic current back of it that touclied my heart 
with a kind of fervent heat, tliat melted at once all 
the icy feelings that had im}»erceptibly accumulated 
toward her. On entering the ladies' cabin, Mrs. 
('mgin met me with a subdue<l kind of greeting, yet 
so atiectionate and sincere, that my equanimity was at 
fault, as tearful eyes involuntarily bore witness. I 
s(»on discovered, however, that there was n heavy 
burden upon her mind, the nature of which she 
evidently had no freedom to reveal; still the evidence 
of a return of her kinclly feelings towards nio Wiis 
indisputable, if my inner senses ami emotions were to 
be accepted as i)i'opcr witnesses in the case. But I 
had so thoroughly disciplined myself to the minding 
of my own business, that I neither demanded nor 
asked for explanations. My sympathies, however. 
Were silently enlisted in her behalf. Could I foriret 
the past?' 


Miic-1) to \\U surpriftc, lie heard, a few days later, 
that the Kcv. Abrani C, instead of going on his mis- 
fiion at once into IVnnpylvania, had h>itered for a 
wholo week in New Y(»rk. What had kept him there? 
Ah, wliat? 

Some e^ll of hnsiness carried George Cragin to New 
York, and he very pro]»erly called on his fellow-saints, 
the Lyveres. When he was entering their house, he 
saw that sonie great trouble weighed ujion Mrs. Ly- 
vere's mind. While he was asking himself what it 
could mean, she said : 

"'Mr. Cnigin, the moment you entered our house, 
the impression came npon me that the Lonl had sent 
you here that I might liave an opportunity of unbur- 
dening my mind to you. Vou are aware,'* she con- 
tinued, *' that Mr. 8mitli and Mrs. Cragin Ijavc lately 
spent a week in the city. They were guests of oui's 
most of the time. I had been made actpiainted with 
their unusual proceedings at Kondout last May, and 
with the subsequent criticism given them by Mr. 
Noyes. I was also aware of the prtmiise made b}* Mr. 
iSmith that there should be no repetition of like pro- 
ceedings or imjiroper intimacy between himself and 
your wife. That promise, I assure you, Mr. Cragin, lias 
been broken — juilging from the evidence of their 
guilt in my possession. Their con<luct while here was 
very strange. Your wife did her best to appear cheer- 
ful, and to hide from me the trial that was upon her. 
But she could not. Teare would come to her eyes in 
spite of her will to keep them back, indicating trouble 
within. Mr. Smith spent hours in talking to her, and 
at times his language was so severe, that it aroused 
my indignation against him to the highest degree. 
One night I overheard him say to her that if she 
revealed to you tlieir secret marriage, it would cause 


an ovi»rI;iHtiiig si'iKiration between them. Tliej occu- 
pied ' 

***Stop, htopi' I replied, *I have hoard enough, 
liet the details go ; I care not for them. That man, 
that infernal hvpocrile han deceive<l nie — h:u» lied to 
nic over and over again. But I niu^t keei> cool/ I 
said more eahnly; *Mr. Sinitli himself in u victim. 
The clevil, the ohl serpent thatsedncetl mother Eve, is 
iit the hott«»m of all this mischief and \vi*ong. Mr. 
Smith's ahuse of me, ami the seduction c»f my wife, 
are trifles c«>mpare<i with the wound Mr. tSniith has 
inllicted upon the sacred cause of truth. But I will 
Kiy no more. I shall he at home to-morn>w morning; 
1 helieve Mrs. Cnigin will tell me the truth, however 
much it nniy imidicate herself.'** 

During tliis conversation between Mw. Lyvere and 
(icorge, the Kev. John B. Lyvere had said but little, 
thiJUgli the few wonls which he dn»pt corroborated the 
testimony t»f Ids wife. 

With a heavy heart George went on board the 
steamer that was to take him home, to the cold stone 
house at Kondout, to the Spiritual wife of Abnmi C, 
•Smith. He sat on deck all night and watched the 
summer stars come forth. The voyage was long; for 
the vessel lutd to \\\\A\ her way against wind and tide, 
so that morning dawned before she came alongside 
the tiny wharf. George jumped into a cunoe, to 
pathlle himself across the creek. 

^*The morning sun shone eahnly and beneficently 
upon the still waters of the bay, as I entered u skitf Ut 
row myself to the solitary stone house on the op|iosito 
shore. As I drew near the landing, only a few ro<ls 
from our dwelling, I saw the slender form of my wife 
><tanding ujion the pier to oiler her accustomed greet- 
ing. But as I ajijiroached still nearer, so thut she 

330 iirilUTUAL WIVES. 

foiihl read tlio co unto nance I wore, the playful smile 
upon hor lace inntantly vanisliecl. With all my mental 
victories, etlilyinjc reflections, and good rcsoIveB, during 
a HJeeplesH night on the Ilmlson, I etill had the hur- 
den to carry of a sad, heavy heart. I was a poor hand 
at concealing the state of things within me. My wife 
interpreted at a glance the story I had to tell. We 
met on the shore, an<l a sorrowful meeting it was. 
*(jreorge,' wiid my wife, *you know all; the secret is 
out, and I thank (mxI for revealing it.' 'Yes, Mary,' 
I replied, 'lying, like murder, will out.' *I will make 
a clean hreast now,' she said, 'for 1 can cairry the 
works of darkness no longer.' 'Wait a while,' I rc- 
j»lic<l. Mill I get rested.' I could not talk. A conflict 
was going on within. Two spirits were struggling for 
the mastery over me. One would reject her and treat 
licr with the icy coldness and scorn of the unforgiving 
world. The other would forgive the penitent, and l)y 
sincerity, tempere<l with kindness, lead her back to 
the Rock, Christ, from whence she had straved. The 
good sjurit prevailed. We walked to the house like 
two soldiers who had been badly whipped by the 
enemy — cast down, but not destroyed. ' Wc will be 
brother and sister after this,' I remarked, 'as we don't 
seem to prosper in this warfare, as husband and wife.'" 
Brother and 8ister! The siurit of tlie old German 
monks and nuns was upon them. George felt that 
the crisis of his life had como. lie knew that he ha<l 
been a sad idolater of beauty, wit, and worth, lie 
Iioped and prayed that a calmer spirit would be his. 
lie felt no more anger in his heart towards Mary than 
he would have cherished towards a sister who had 
gone astray and had come to throw herself at his feet 




GEOTIGK continues liis Rtor}*: — 
"The ihiy I returned from New York waa long 
to be renienihered as a day of confessions. Mrs. Cm- 
gin voluntarily confessed all that wjir in her heart 
relatinjLT to the intimacy that had existctl for the i>aist 
six months between her and Mr. Smith. Her revela- 
tions were not made to eover \\\\ faults, but to bo 
delivered from them. She was serious and sorrowful, 
but her sorrow was not of the world. While listening 
to her storv, the exhortation, *('onfess vour faults one 
to another, and pray one for another, that yo may be 
healed,* came home to me clothed with new fiirce and 
beauty. Indeed my own heart was so uifeeteil and 
softened by hearing her relate the sim]»le facts in the 
ease without manifesting the least disposition, as I 
eould see, to screen hei*self from jn<lgment behinil the 
more aggnivated faults of another, that I too wanted 
to eonfess my own weakness and faults, and cover up 
those of otliers. I realized also, that Mi's. Cnigin felt, 
as all true penitents must feel, that God, much more 
than man or society, had been wronged by the evil 
done. When one sees the faults of which one is 
guilty, and has a hatred of them, a sincere confession 
of them to others is, virtually, a separation from those 
faults; and the turning of the heart to God in prayer 
causes* the healing power of His love ami forgivoncss 
to flow in upon the wounded spirit" 

2« W 


The explanation l>etwecMi George and Mary as to 
what was past, and the understanding between them 
as to what must he, could not be all in all. Ahram 
was away from Kondout ; but he would, of course, 
come back; and from the man*s nature it was clear 
that he could never be restrained from tr}Mng to en- 
force his rip^hts upon the woman who had contracted 
towards him the obligations of a Spiritual wife. 

^^Thc return of Mr. Smith from his mission south 
was looked for daily. I had not thought so much 
about <Ireading his return, until Mrs. Cragin said to 
nie one day, 'George, you can hardly have a concep- 
tion of the terrible ilread I have at times of meeting 
that man. The very thought of the bare possibility 
of agsiin coming under his power is <listressing to me.' 
* You must put your trust in God,* I replied ; * He can 
]»rotcct you against all harm from men or devils.* 
While tlius exhorting Mrs. Cragin to faith and cour- 
age, I was also exhorting myself to exercise the same, 
in view of the necessity of meeting an old friend in 
the possible character of an antagonist. I sincerely 
felt my inability to cope with a spirit so strong as that 
which I well knew Mr. Smith jMissessed. With prayer- 
ful endeavor, therefore, to fortify ourselves for what 
might be before us, we imtiently waited the issue of 
coming events. 

''Late on the following Saturday night, the famiily 
being all in bed, the lights extinguished, and not a 
sound to be heard save the pattering rain and the mo- 
notonous sound of the incoming tide, a loud rap^ rapj 
rap^ was heard on the fmnt door, which was soon fol- 
lowed by the well-known voice of Mr. Smith. The 
first knock thus heard startled the chastened one be- 
side mo so suddenly, as to cause much bodily agitation 
and trembling. As I left my bed to obey the sum* 


mons, Mrs. Cragin beggcil of me not to allow Mr. 
Sinitl» to entor the mom wo ocenpieu. On opening 
the door to let iiim in, he extended his hand to me, 
wliieh I deelined to take, Haying as I did 80, *No, Mr. 
Smith, I cannot take the hand of one who has «o 
cruelly wronged me;' and then adding, * Your dcedfl 
of darkness have come to the light.* His only reply 
was, * Where is Mary? I want to sec her/ *You 
cannot^' I replied. * Moreover, nhc absolutely declines 
seeing you, or speaking to you. 8he has revealed all;' 
and 80 saying, I returned to my room. 

** Little indeed was the sleep that visited our pillows 
that stonny night. From the tone of his voice and 
the attitude of his spirit, we well knew that no con- 
viction of guilt, no repentance of evil committed, had 
overtaken Mr. Smith during his absence. We felt, 
too, that his heart was set on war, if need be, for the 
recovery of his fancied rights to the woman whom his 
delusion had led astray. What a sudden change of 
the position of the parties! Mrs. Cragin was now 
anxious to shun the very man whom, only a few 
weeks before, she ha<l implicitly trusted and loved to 
adoration. * George,' she said to me, *you must not 
for one moment leave me alone with him. He will 
invent every conceivable plan to see me; prevent 
him.' I promised to do my best. Thus tbe night 
was spent, very much, I imagine, as an army spends 
the night in front of the enemy. 

*^The morning came cpiite soon enough, for I had 
to confess the [irescnce of feelings very much opposed 
to the inevitable contiict I rniw before mo. But as 
there was no such alternative as retreat from the posi- 
tion in which Providence had placed me, I arose with 
the prayer in my heart for gnico to do that which 
would please the Spirit of truth. In the coume of 


the moniinj:, Mr. Smith, Mfb. Cragin and myBclf, were 
alone in the 8itting-room. Mr. Smith put on a tri- 
umphant air, inviting no candid talk or investigation 
of his past proceedings; neither did he make any con- 
cessions as to the questionable wisdom of the coui'se 
lie had adopted, but stood iirmly and resolutely on the 
assumed ground that he had pleased God in all that 
]je had done; appealing moreover to Heaven, in a 
])rcsuniptuous wjiy, for the justification of his deeds. 
This was said, not directly to me, but, as one might 
suppose, to an imaginary audience before whom he 
was delivering a sermon on self-justification. His 
manner of defence was peculiarly his own, being a 
compound of preaching, praying, and ejaculation, in- 
ter{>olated with singing, amens, and hallelujahs. Of 
ct)urse, I was reganled by him with great contempt 
for presuming to sit in judgment upon his course and 
actions. Nevertheless, I stood firmly by the judgment 
I had given, namely, that he had been, and was still, 
under the delusion of the devil. I repeated that judg- 
ment, whenever he addressed me directly, adding very 
little besides, regarding it my main business to remain 
by Mrs. Cragin according to my promise." 

George could find the strength to make new con- 
ditions with his idol; but he could not yield her to 
the reverend gentleman who claimed her as a Spiritual 

George tells the story of his struggle with the mas- 
tering spirit of tiio Methodist preacher in words 
which I prefer to save. No art of mine shall come 
between the reader and this strange confession from 
a wounded soul. 

**From morning till night the battle thus raged 
with unabated fierceness; not however in the form 
of combative words, as between two flesh-and-blood 


n88uilaiitK, but it wna the \viv(»frnig of our spiritn with 
priiK'ipuliticH and iiivinible power:*, t<» nee which would 
carry the «hiy. Once, liin ehnjuonce in preaching ant] 
praying might have c<»n<|ncreil me, as I wais, I 8U1>|hi!H*, 
cjisily aflectcd by hucIi kind of demagiigiHni, provided 
the peribrmer had iny coniidence. But understand- 
ing lor a cerUiinty ha I then did, tliat the pcrnon tliU8 
speaking wa8 not to l>c trusted, and that he wa:i 
given to deception and lying, he might an well have 
undertaken to melt the Kocky Mountains by his 
declamation, as to move me from my convictions. 
Mr. Smitli was under the erroneous impression that 
the afiecti<»ns of Mrs. Cragin were still his; and that 
if he could only overpower tlie liyal husband, the 
$pirttual one would readily and easily recover his lost 
prize. Hence his unceasing eilbrt^. 

*' Finally, his zeal began to wane, seeing that he 
was losing rather than gaining ground. So, early in 
the evening, he suddenly changed his base, by de- 
claring that he had made up his mind to start imme- 
diately for Putney. * Very well,* I rejdied, *you could 
not do a better thing. My confidence in Mr. Noyes,' 
I continued, ^is still unshaken. I will submit my 
side of the case to liis judgment and decision. Mr. 
Smith was now pleasant and genial, and in this state 
asked me if I would do him a favor. * Certainly,' I 
replied, ' what shall it bo ? ' * Write a line to brother 
Noyes, saying that you cherish no unkind personal 
feelings towards me.' I complied with the request, 
lie was then ready for the journey, at the same time 
inviting mo to row him across the Creek. I did bo, 
and on leaving the boat he wished me to give him a 
parting kiss, as a token of my kind regards. With 
this request I also complied. Not until I had returned 
to the house, however, and reported to Mrs. Crugiu 


this last diplomatic mancBUvrc, did I divino the mo- 
tive hy which he wan actuateil in thus suddenly 
making h>ve to me. He was aware that Lyvere had 
been sent on to Putney as a witness against him. So, 
hiwyer-Iike, he was going fully prepared, as he thought, 
to rebut Lyvere's testimony, by proving that he had 
parted with me on the hest of terms. I must admit 
that I felt a little chagrined to think I could allow 
myself to be so easily imtK)sed upon after all that had 
transpired, llowever, I did not allow such trickery 
on his part to disturb me seriously, believing as I did 
that Mr. Noyes possessed the discernment which 
would enable him to detect the spirit of imposition 
that would soou confront him." 



GEORGE CR AGIN did not see the face of the Rev. 
Abram C. Smith again for many years. Noyes 
told liis once disciple that he was no better than a 
rogue, whom he felt it a duty to denounce before all 
the world. Smith saw and confessed his error; prom- 
ised to sin no more; returned to Rondout; asked 
liis angry wife to come home ; and devoted his ener* 
gies to making money, in which ho succeeded better 
than in making love. 

Cragin says of him in parting : — 

*^ He was a man of strong social affections. With 
his first wife he lived peaceably, and was a kind hus- 
band ; but her affeetional nature, as compared with 
his own, was icy coldness. Not findingi therefore. 

PEA CE. 343 

the 8ati8racti<»n Iiia nnlcnt natnro cnivcd in Iiis own 
family, ho pitlicrcd up what crumh8 lie coiiltl find, to 
meet tho (IcnuuKU of Bpecial iViuiuIshiis in the field 
of hin hihors as a AlethodiKt i»roaclier. 80 that, 
acconling to his own eonfesdioiis, ho was much more 
at homo in tho church meetings, which were ntoMtlji 
ffiuih up of femaleSy than in his own family circle. With 
hid Hocond wife, a 8till tcreutor disappointment afflicted 
him. There wan in her no lack of HcnsuouA life, hut 
a total lack of religious faith and moral integrity, to 
sanctify it Ilonco m his domestic and social relu- 
tions tluis far, ho had not realized )ns dreams of con- 
nuhial felicity. Hut in forming an acquaintance with 
Mrs. Cragin, ho found a wonnni whoso nature was 
pre-eminently aitcctional. With largo veneration for 
God and man, but with little or no cautiousness, and very 
unselfish, she soon became all the world, and heaven 
besides, to Mr. Smith. In defending his late c*onduct, 
Mr. Smith based his argument on the fanatical aHHuni|>- 
tion that the invisible powers, with whom he claimed 
to be in constant communication, had given him Mrs. 
Cragin as his true aflinity — hi% spiritual wife and com- 
panion^ to be his in all ayvs to come^ alh*ging that tho 
two previous ones wore not adaiptcd to his spiritual 
needs, or, in other words, were not, either of them, 
his true nuite. The invisible power who thus prom- 
ised him a choice bit of property, was undoubtedly 
the same infamous and unscrupulous speculator who 
held out very tempting prizes to tho Son of God. If 
Mr. Smith*s delusion on this subject originated any- 
where outside of his morbid social aftbctionSy it is to 
be attributed to the social influences of the nominal 
church, or to the habits of the clerical class of which 
he hod been a member, in being associated so much 
as they are with women, as their special co-laborers 
in the religious field." 

344 sriniTrAL wivhh, 

|[u8baiul nn<l wife, now come into their new rela- 
tion of pious brother unci pious ninter, liad to \\\^e the 
world once more; they liad been cured of their idohi- 
trous love for each other; but they had not yet become 
free of the question as to how they were to gain their 
dailv bread. 

" Mr. Smitli liaving left for Vermoi»t, as before 
stated, the question now came home to me with 
serious emphasis, What is the will of God concerning 
my future course? To learn that will and obey it, at 
the cost of any tempond discomforts and sacrifices, 
was my duty, and should be my pleasure. After 
waiting on God a while, as a nuui waits on a friend 
who he is assured has the means and the disposition 
to relieve him, some flashes of light entered my mind; 
and this light gradually increased, until I interpreted 
its meaning so clearly an<l satisfactorily that I could 
not do otherwise than accept it as the will of my 
heavenly Father concerning the first step to be taken 
in the premises. I said to Mrs. Cragin, ^My mind is 
made u)) to leave this place, just as soon as I can 
arrange my business to do so, and without waiting for 
the return of Mr. Smith.' 

** * But where can we go?* inquirjed my wife. 

** * The light came from the East,* I replied ; * so I 
am going first to New York. When there, I shall 
expect directions where to go next. Sufficient unto 
the day are the directions thereof.' 

**Mrs. Cragin was almost overjoyed at the purpose 
I had formed. The first thing to bo done was to find 
an opening for the disposal of our furniture, most of 
which was mahoganyi and more costly than laboring 
people could afibrd to purchase. Our nearest neighbor 
on that side of the Creek was a Dutch farmer in fair 
circumstances* I went at once to his house and 


reported my businefiA. He had unmarried dnn/rhtere. 
The entire family returned with me to examine the 
goods, and the result was, I sold thcni every i»ieee of 
furniture I had to dispose o\\ at priecu that pleased 
them. The love of money was not a vice that I was 
guilty of just then. The crops I had enltivateil, and 
of which I was somewhat proud — this being my first 
attempt at farming since my hoyhood days — I left of 
coui*sc. In less than a week, therefore, from the time 
that I regarded myself as liaving received orders to 
remove from that station, I had settled up all business- 
matters for which I was responsible, had my goods that 
we were to t4iko with us all packed, and taken over 
the Creek to a steamer lying at Uondout wharf; and 
on the second day of September, 1840, we took our 
leave of our friends at the old stone house, and were 
ferried across the river to the boat bound for New 

Peace returned in time to the l>osom of this dis- 
tracted house. In a few days, Mary was able to write 
in her defence to Father Noyes: — 

*^ Since the fatal charm luis been dissolved, I see 
how I have been deceived anil duped, and taught Xo 
believe that I was in an inner circle where it was right 
and pleasing to God to do what I did. ... I never, 
in my heart, turned aside from the promise I made to 
you when you were at our house last spring. Again 
and again I asked Mr. Smith if you wouhl be pleased 
with our course (for I had terrible misgivings), when 
he assured me that you would, and that he himself 
would tell you. . . . Guilty as I am, I have been 
miserably deceived and deluded by him. I am reap- 
ing the curse of trusting in man, and I deserve it. It 
was the instruction I received to lie and deceive, that 
first begaji to open my eyes. I thank God for the 


']Ui}fCTneut thnt liaR overtaken me, nnd is compelling 
mc to BCc my errors, siimI making me, from my inner- 
most soul, condemn them, even if I am to be sent to 
hell at last/' 

George adds by way of final moral : — 

"To snm np onr experience during this time, T 
might say that for the previous six months we had 
been given c»ver to Satan for the destruction of the 
flesh, having been jmt into a sort of pnrgatorj*, or 
deviPs-cure process, for purging us of egotism and 
self-conceit. Being thus greatly reduced as regarded 
self-valuation, wc filled a much smaller place in the 
world, after emerging from that satanic bath, than 
ever before, making us much more teachable and 
available to the powers above us and for whom we 
were created, than we otheinvise could have been." 

Subsequently husband and wife entered, as brother 
and sister in the Lord, very heartily into the com- 
munistic experiment in Oneida Creek, of which Mary 
Cragin very soon became the vital soul. 

Some years later still, she was drowned by a lK>at 
accident in that verv Rondout Creek which had been 
the scene of her trials as Spiritual wife to the Kev. 
Abram C. Smith. 

Many of her writings on religions subjects have 
been published ; and an obelisk has been raised above 
her tomb. 




BY way of final gIo88 nix>ii these Hiiiritual cloincrg in 
the New Pauline Churehen of America, I mhail 
cite, from a letter a<Mrcs8e<l to me by Father Xoyen, 
the followins^ faets, reasonin^A, and conc^hisionn, as to 
what he insists on callin*; the niarria<^e revolution in 
his own country, now hein*; elfected tlirou<rli w chan<7C 
in its reli«i:ioua 8j>irit. It will he noted tliat Father 
Noye8 considers this comin^r revolution U8 a change 
from democnicy to theocnicy ; from icovernment hy a 
nioh to government hy a ]»rie8t; from the theory of 
free trade and |>ersonal interest into that of free love 
and brotherly helpfulness; fi»m the practice of buy- 
ing in the cheapest market and selling in the dearest, 
into actual Christian socialism; a clninge, therefore, 
which is to transform the political as well as the do- 
mestic life of his countrymen ! 

In a few places I have altered a word and even • 
struck out a phrase, since the ordinary English reader 
is far less free in the use of terms than an American 
divine; but I have in no ease changed the BcnsOi or 
even veiled the meaning meant to be conveyed by the 
reverend gentleman. 

" Onehia C, March, 1867. 
** It is evident IVoni what wo have seen that lU-vivals 
breoil social revolutions. All the social irregiilnriticN re- 
ported in the papers iuliowed in the train of revivals; and, 
to far OS I know, all revivals have developed tcDdoDcioa to 


wioh irro'^ularities. The philoBophy of the mjitler Hcems 
to bcihiA: i^cvivaU arc theocratic in their very nature; 
they introduce God into human afTairH; the power that is 
Hupposed to be prcHcnt in them iH equivalent to inspiration 
and the powerof miraclcn, — that is to nay, it is the actual 
J)city. In the conncrvativc theory of Kevivaln, this power 
iH restricted to tlic converHion of souls ; hut in actual ex- 
)»eriencc it ^oes, or tends to ^o, into all the aflairsof life. 
Kcvival preachers and Revival converts are necessarily in 
the incipient sta^c of a theocratic revolution; they have 
in their ex|H*rience the he;;innin^ of a life under the 
Higher law ; and if they stop at internal religious changes, 
it is because the influence that converted them is suppressed. 

" And the theocratic tendency, if it goes beyond religion, 
naturally runs fii-st into some form of Socialism. Religious 
love is very near neighbor to sexual love, ar.d they always 
get mixed in the intimacies and social excitements of Uevi- 
vals. The next thing a man wants, after he has found the 
salvation of his soul, is to find his Eve and his Paradise. 
Hence these wild experiments and terrible disasters. 

** From these facts and principles, quite opposite conclu- 
sions may be drawn by different persons. A worldly-wise 
man might say, they show that Jtevivals are damnable 
delusions, leading to immorality and disorganization of 
WK'icty. 1 should say, they show that Jlt^vivals, because 
t'lcy are divine, require for their complement a divine 
organization of society, which all who love Kevivals and 
tlio good of mankind should fearlessly seek to discover 
and inaugurate. 

"The confession of Marquis L. Worden exhibits a set 
of facts which may bo called the morbid results of Revivals, 
By studying these cases, wo can trace out minutely the 
process by which Revivals lead to the evolution of Sha- 
kerism. One of the most interesting chapters in your 
New America is that in which you give Elder Frederick's 
view of Revivals as breeders of Shaker Societies. You 
wiy: — 

^'Tbe Shakers look upon a Revival as a spiritual cj^cle, 

xovKs ox sriiuTrAL love. 340 

— tho cti<l(»riiii 0jM»cli, — the Mrlliuf a now HOcioty. Only 
in tho fon'or of ii revival, wiyw EUlcr FroHorick, can the 
elect be drawn to GtKi: — that i» to nay, in (tcntilo phivf, 
drawn into a Shaker Hettlomont. Mount Lebanon Hpren;; 
i'rom a revival ; Enfield npnin^ from a revival ; in fact, 
the Shaken* declare that every larp) revival beinfj tho 
accomplinhment of a Rpiritual cycle, must end in tho fuun* 
dation of a fresh Shaker union.' 

** This Ik undoubtedly a true account of the ii^encNJit 
of Shakerisin. In the narrative of Worden, and in tho 
Htatenient added by myself, 3*ou aix» taken behind the cur- 
tain and shown Aorrthc c^onvertsare pn»|»ared for the holy 
Elders. It is ea^y to see that, if the Shakers liad l»ecn 
awake to their advantage in 1835-6, they might have 
established new societies in Central New York and in 
Central Massachusetts. Every element of Shakerism wnn 
present in tho disonlers of these burnt districts. Tho 
Shaker doctrine of Perfection was there. Tho Shaker 
doctrine of tho JiCadership of Women was there. Lucina. 
IJmphreville was the incipient Mother Ann at the West, 
and Mary Jjincoln at the East. The Shaker doctrine of 
chastity was there. Lucina openly declariMl that Ann 
lice was right in regard to the true relations of man and 
woman. The original theory of the Saints, l>oth at the 
East and the West, was oppose*! to actual interconrso of 
the sc-xcsas * works of the flesh.' They 'bundled,* it is true, 
but only to prove by trial their power against the flesh; 
in other words, their triumphant Shakerism. Doctor 
Grid ley, one of tho Massachusetts Icatlers, l>oasted tliat * ho 
couhl carry a virgin in each hand without tho least stir of 
unholy passion!' At Brimfield, Mary Lincoln and Maria 
Brown visited Simon Lovett in his room ; but thoy camo 
out of that room in tho innocence of Shakerism. If tho 
Elders had been present, and prompt to gather the harvest 
just when it was ri])e, before it passed into prurience and 
^ocay, two new societies at least might havo boon founded. 
And even in the worst stages of tho disorder, Shakerism 

350 SriniTlIAL WIVES. 

woiilfi have been a wolfoine refu/ixo from the reactions and 
tribulalionn that followed the excitement. 

** But the Shakers mu«t not flatter themnelves that their 
noeietie« are the only birlhH that come of iJevivaU. Mor- 
moniHrn, doubtlo«H, camo out of the same fertile 8oil. Joe 
Smith be^an hi« career in central New York, amon^ a 
population that waH formcntin;; with the hope of the 
Millennium, and at a time when the ;xreat National Revi- 
val wan ^oin^ forth in itn strength. The order of things 
in tluH birth was the Kamo that we have seen amon^ the 
bundling PerfectioniMtH, — fin<t, J^eligion; then SociaIit«m : 
KevivaU an«l conversions of souU leading the way to 
Spiritual Wifehood, and finally to Polygamy. The com- 
pletion of the Hoquence in this case seems to have taken 
two generations of leaders; Joe Smith laid the religious 
foundations, and Brigham Young has perfected the 

"The underlying principle here, as everywhere, is that 
which 1 started at first: — Revivals are in their nature 
theocratic; and a theocracy has an inexpugnable tendency 
to enter the domain of society and revolutionize the rela- 
tions of man and wife. The resulting new fonns of so- 
ciety will differ as the civilization and inspiration of the 
revolutionists differ. 

"One dominant peculiarity of the Shakers, as also of 
the Jiundling Perfectionists, which determined their style 
of socialism, was, in my opinion, the fjenffrr^htp of IVnmfn. 
Man of himself would never have invented Shakerism, 
and it would have been very difficult to have made him a 
medium of inspiration for the development of such a 
system. It is not in his line. But it is exactly adapted 
to the proclivities of women in a state of independence 
or ascendanc}' over man. Love between the sexes has 
two stages; the courting stage and the wedded stage. 
Women are fond of the first stage. Men are fond of the 
second. Women like to talk about love; but men want 
the love itself. Among the Perfectionists the women led 
the way in the bandling with purposes as chaste as those 

iVovES ox sriRirrAL love. 351 

of the Shakers. For ft lime they had their way; batia 
time the moi) had thoir wav. 

"The course of things may ho re-stated thus: Rcvirals 
lead to religious love ; religious love excites the passions ; 
the converts, finding themselves in tIuM>cratic liberty, 
begin to look al>out for their mates and their paradi^* 
Hero begins divergence, if women have the lead, tin* 
feminine idea that ordinary wedde<l lovo is carnal ami 
unholy rines and becomes a ruling principle. Mating on 
the Spiritual plan, with all the heights and depths of Hon- 
timental love, becomes the order of tho day. Then, if a 
])rudent Mother Ann is at tho head of affairs, tho sexes 
are fenced otf from each other, and carry on their Platonic 
intcrcourso through the grating. But, if a wild Mary 
Lincoln or Lucina Umphreville is in the ascendant, the 
^i^iresumptuous experiment of bundling is tried; and the 
end is ruin. On the other hand, if the leaders are men, 
the theocratic impulse tiikes the opposite direction, and 
polygamy in some form is tho result. Thus Mormonism 
is the masculine form, as Shakerism is tho feminine form, 
of the more morbid products of lievivals. 

**Our Oneida Socialism, too, is a masculine product of 
tho great Revival. I might take you behind the scenes 
and show you tho genesis of Bible Communism. I shall 
not be likely to Und a more catholic eoniessor. But tho 
task is too egotistical for mo at present ; I will only indi- 
cate in a general way two or three points of difTerenco 
between my course and that of tho bundling Porfee* 

" First, understand and remember that from 1834, when 
the Revival carried nie into the confession of Holiness, 
till 1846, tho birth-year of our present community — 
twelve years — I walked in all tho ordinances of tho law 
blameless. I have told you how near 1 camo to being 
caught in tho scandal at Brimfield in 1835, and how I 
escaped. This was my nearest, I may say my only, ap- 
proach to implication in the disorders of that porifxi. I 
was regularly married in 18^i8, and the files of papers 


that I puhli.slicd from that time till 1846 will loatiO 
my face was sot a^ a flint ai^aiiist laxity among the S 
My tloalings with Abram (/. Smith, in his affair with 
Cragin, is a specimen of the spirit in which I aeU 
repeat that I never knew woman till I was marriet 
I never knew any woman but my wife till wc to^ 
entered into complex marriage in 1846. 

'* What then had I to do with the social rcvolutiont 
were going on in that turbulent time? 1 was a 1 
among Perfectionists. Is it possible, it may bo c 
that I was an innocent cipher in these matters all thi 
that campaign ? Not exactly a cipher. This \% ^w 
did : I looked on ; I studied; I got the germ of my 
ent theory of Socialism very soon after 1 confessed 
ness, I. r in May 1884. As that germ grew in my 
1 talked about it. It took definite form in a private 
in 183G. It got into print without my knowled, 
consent in 1837. I moulded it, protected it, and malu 
from year to year; holding it always, neverthelesji 
theory* to be realized in the future^ and warning al 
against premature action npon it. I made ready f< 
realiz.ation of it by clearing the field in which 1 w 
of all libertinism, and by educating our Putney fam 
male continence and criticism. When all was rea^ 
1846, I launched the theory into practice. 

** Enough in this direction. One more generi 
mark : — 

*^ It is notable that all the socialisms that have s] 
fi'om revivals have prospered. They are utterly op 
to each other; some of them must bo false and bad 
they all make the wilderness blossom around then 
the rose. Tho scientific associations, ono and all, 
wreck; but the religious socialisms flourish as tl 
the smiles of Providence wero npon them. What 
roeaning of this? I interpret it thus: however fale 
mutually repugnant the religious socialisms may 
their details, they are all based on the theocratic prir 
— tbcy all recogniBo the right of religious inspimt 


Bliapc society ami dieUito tlu' form of family life. In tikis 
MornioiiH, Shakei*M, niMl Hil>K'-(*oniinuni8t« agree. 1 be- 
lieve this to l»o a true |)rinoi|ilo an«l one that is dear to 
the houvciiH. F«»r tho 8ake of thin principle, it 0eem« to 
mo tiiat the invirtible government hati favored even Popery 
and Moiiammedaninm ) and 1 expect that this principle 
and not UepablicaniHm, (the mere power of human Law), 
will at last triumph in some form hero and throughout 
the world. JouN II. Notm.'* 



I HAVE given these words of Father Noycs on the 
origin of Spiritual wifehood in America, because, 
since this reverend gentleman is one of tho chief 
founders of Pauline Socialism in that country, his 
opinions have a certain value in this connection oi 

I must, however, guard myself nguinst any such 
linferenee as that, in my judgment, Father Noycs has 
igiven in this statement u complete view of the matter. 
Like nearly all American divines, he fancies that tho 
doctrine of natural mates, between whom alone there 
can be true wedlock of tlie soul, is a growth and proi>- 
erty of the Western soil; a product of the highest 
form of Ncw-Englttucl Puritanism, Iiaving its root in 
the stony ground about Plymouth Kock. To such a 
theory, an historian of the Gothic family would cer- 
tainly demur; whether the origin of Spiritual wives 
were traced to Sydney Rigdon, Hiram Sheldon, or 
John IL Noyes. In the United States, this doctrine 

30* X 

3.'>4 srWITUAL WIVES. 

of H|)irit-l>ri(IeA has found an open iicid and a multi- 
tude of eonvcrtrt; and it enjoys in that republic the 
advantages of a free pulpit and a free press. No ra- 
tionalistic Ober-rriisidont could silence a Ne^' York 
Ebel ; no trinunin<^ bisliop could remove a Massaclui- 
Hetts rrince. In America, the preachers find an open 
field, if they find no favor; hence the quick and wide 
success which may greet a new and seductive doctrine 
like that of Spiritual wives. But this doctrine crossed 
the seas from Kurope to America; and although it can 
hardly b(»ast of such grand results in Cicrmany and in 
England as it shows in both the religious circles and 
the rationalistic societies -of the United States, yet 
sonic traces of its presence may be founil in our day, 
in every country peopled by men of Teutonic race. 

The doctrine of Natural Mates and Spiritual Love 
between the sexes is an old Gothic doctrine; one 
whicii ]iublished itself in the great Fraternity of the 
Free Spirit ; which startled mankind in the conduct of 
John of Leyden ; which appeared in tlie sermons and 
the practices ot Ann Lee; which took a special form 
in the speculations of Enmninuel Swedenborg; which 
f«>und a voice in the artistic work of Wolfgang von 
(lothe. This doctrine was known in Augsburg and 
Leyden, in Manchester and Stockholm, in Frankfort 
and Weimar, long before it was heard of in New 
Haven and New York. 

From the days in which those Brethren of the Free 
Spirit tendered to their sisters in the Lord the seraphic 
kiss of Spiritual love, until our ow*n times, when that 
soft and perilous privilege was revived in many dis- 
tant places; first, by the Mucker at Konigsberg, then 
by the Princeites at Weymouth, afterwards by the Pau- 
line socialists of Brimfield and Manlius; a constant 
tradition of the superior rights and felicities conferred 


by a marriage of 8oul«, liaH been pre«crveil among the 
Gothic nations. This tradition has proved its exist* 
ence in many ways; sometimes cropping out in the- 
ory, sometimes in practice; Jiero breaking out into 
license with Hans Matthieson, there dreaming ofi'into 
fantasy with Jacob Vohme. Under John of Leyilcu 
it took the shjipe of jHiIygamy; under Gerhard Ter- 
steegen that of personal union with the lloly 6ho8t 
Swedenborg gave to it a large extension, a definite 
form, and even a body of rules. Ann Lee made me 
of it in her project for introducing a female Messiah, 
and establishing on the new earth her dogma of the 
leadership of woman. Giithe, who seized so much of 
the liner spirit of his race, made this old tradition of 
Natural niatcs assist, if not the ends of his philosophy, 
at least the purposes of his art. 

Now, the forms into which this old Gothic instinct 
has thrown iti^elf in our own day, are mainly two: one 
Spiritual, the other Natural ; the iii*st finding \U best 
expression in Swedenborg, the other in Gothc. Under 
each of these two forms, we have a series of schools 
and churches springing up in the New Amcrieu, put- 
ting sentiment to the proof, and turning dreams into 
facts; here running into plurality of wives, there into 
denial of the passions, and here again into the wildest 
license of free love. 

The preachci-s of all these modes of Spiritual mar- 
riage, profess (with some excei»tions, hardly worth a 
note) to find the sanctions of their creed and practice 
in St. Paul ; for while our orthodox divines have been 
weakly shutting their eyes on that passage in which 
the Apostle speaks of his female companion, the free 
critics of America have been fastening their own in- 
terpretation on his words. Yet the texts on which 
the two main schools havo severally built their Hym 


tenia of religioiiH and social life, rnny he found much 
nearer home than in the writings of St. Paul. 

The HpiritualiHtic doctrine lies in Swedenhorg; the 
Xaturali.stio doctrine lies in Gotiie. 

In the new heaven and the new earth imagined hy 
Swedenhorg, and painted by him with so much sen- 
suous color and voluptuous language, the union of 
male and female is not only a Spiritual fact, but the 
soul and motive of all celestial facts. Without perfect 
marriage, there is no perfect rest for either man or 
woman, even in heaven ; nothing hut a striving of the 
soul after distant joys; joys which can never be at- 
tained, except by the happy blending of two souls in 
one everlasting covenant of love. Heaven itself is 
nothing without love; less than a land without mois- 
ture, a field without seed, a world without sunshine. 
Love is its light and life. Take away love, and heaven 
is a blank, a waste, a ruin; for love is the inner soul 
and source of things; which sends its radiance thmuirh 
the world of sjiirits, much as the sun sends forth its 
heat and light through the world of sense. So firmly 
is this doctrine of the need of a true marriage of souls 
in heaven held by Swedenl)org, and by those who fol- 
low him, that they represent the happy man and wife, 
who have loved each other well on earth, and come 
together in the after-life, in perfect innocence and 
anlor, as melting, so to speak, into each other's es- 
sence; so that these blending souls are no longer vis- 
ible as two angels, but only as one angel ; a glorified 
and pertect being which appears in both the masculine 
and the feminine form. Nay, so potent is the force of 
love, that the followers of the Swedish seer maintain, 
not as a paradox, but a high spiritual truth, that the 
true husband and wife, thus happily conjoined, iire 
not only known to others as one angel only; but 


appear to themselves an a Ringlc being ; two in one, a 
cohsuinniate man, unity in the spirit aiul in the flesh. 
Such exporience, the mystics say, ia rare on earth, 
only because perfect love, the result of marriage 
between natural mates, is rare. 

It is alleged by these mystics that, in the present 
earthly life, marriages are seldom ma<le from Spiritual 
motives. Men are tempted into nnirriage, more by 
birth, wealth, beauty, high connections, even opi>ortu- 
uity, than by actual prompting of the spirit. Men 
take wives as they take partners in business, colleagues 
in politics. Love is treated as a trade. Even under 
such bad conditions, many persons go through the 
matter with a decent air; for, though they soon find 
reason to feel that they are not united with their 
partners in the spirit, they think it well to hide their 
sorrow, and to live in seeming conifort for the sake of 
others — of their kindred, of their children, of the 
world. If they cannot hide their misery from them- 
selves, they often succeed in hidiug it from their pry- 
ing friends. This sort of tender and poetic deceit is 
usetul and even excellent; since, without it, the peace 
of families would be continually disturbed. But it is 
not the less a grief to those who practise it; and happy 
are they who have no need to pretend a sutisfuction in 
wedlock which they do not feel ! 

Those only, adds the seer, who find themselves truly 
mated on the earth, have done for ever with these trials 
and contentions of the spirit 

Spirits may pass away from earth to heaven under 
three diiferent relations of sex and sex. They may 
pass away as children, in the virgin state; they may 
pass away as men and women who have been lawfully 
married without being spiritually mated; and they 
luay pass away as husbands and wives who have 


attained to that stage of conRummate mai 
male and female lian become one body 
In cacli of these three relations, the sp 
pcrienec all its own. 

" I have heard from angels," says Swed 
when a pair who have been educated ii 
childho(»d, have come into years, they 
place by chance. When they behold ei 
feel by a common instinct that they ar 
youth says in his secret heart. She is mil 
says in her secret heart, He is mine. *T1 
other, they are happy, and betrothed." 

Nearly all the contracts made on e 
Swede, are null and void from the begii 
these unions are not made with natural 
the man and the woman die, he says 
consorts for a while in the land of soi 
find that they are not of kin. Some 
upper world, the husband quits his wi 
the wife quits her husband ; now and t 
from each other, like opposite currents 
coil. What had made this male and 
name? Terhaps they lived in the sam 
families were associates; they were of 
age, sex, fortune ; the man was ricli, the 
Tish ! cries the sage ; what are these 
Lord? After death, externals count fo 
the higher spheres no one is richer tha 
iivcry soul is heir to an unfading crown 
nearer than his fellow, for space is a thi 
no one is of higher birth than the rest, 
is a son of God. 

In the after-life every one has to seel^ 
make himself known to her by signs, a 
that bliss which crowns his final search. 


IIupi»iost of all IM lie who nhall have found anil won 
his natural mate on earth. For him the joyn of heaven 
have come in his mortal days. God's purposes arc 
thcMi wrought out in the living flesh, and nothing in 
the scheme of his existence runs to waste. Are there 
many such perfect unions of soul with boul, of heart 
with heart? Yea, many; for God is bountiful to His 
children, and their perfect hiiss may he noted by the 
dincornin^ eve. 

The signs by wliich you may know a spiritual pair 
on eaiih arc mainly these three: union from an early 
time in youth ; perfect love and unbroken faith towanls 
each other; constant pniyer that the Lonl will make 
them and preserve them one in body and in soul. 
When such perfect lovers pass away into a higher 
state, they will come together by a cogent law; and 
the exterinil garments being cast aside, they enter 
gladly into that stage of their spiritual pmgresA in 
which husband and wite can part no more; in which 
they will exist as a single being — one angel of l>oth 
the male and fcnnde type. 

That matches are made in heaven is not a pleasantry 
with the Swedish seer. The Lonl, he says, pmvides 
similitudes for all — if not on earth, where things so 
often arrange themselves by chance, why then in 
heaven, where everything comes to pass according to 
eternal laws, not in obedience to the caprice of men 
and women.- Nature exists in pairs, and God has 
given all creatures into life, as either male or female, 
one for each — no more, no less. In paradise there 
was one w*oman, one man. The perfect being, into 
whose nostrils had been breathed the breath of life, 
was parted into two halves ; this half male, that half 
female ; one original, one derived ; each necessary to 
the other, part of the other ; bo that the two beings 


wliicli Iiad hcen scpjirated might he considered as 
having a common Hlc. As in the h)wer Eden, so in 
the higher Eden. In heaven there will be no bache- 
lors, no old maids, no monks, no nuns, no pluralists, 
no celibates, no free lovers. Each Adam lives in his 
Eve, and is content in her,— 

He for God onlj, she for God in him. 

Thus, all the spirits of the just, whatever may have 
been their lot on earth, will meet and wed their proper 
counterparts in heaven. God has provided that for 
every male soul a female soul shall be born, and 
heaven it«elf knows no sweeter delight than springs 
from witnessing these reunions of the blest 



/^ OTIIE has dealt with those Gothic instincts and 
vX traditions in a purely scientific spirit; though he 
has used them mainly for the purposes of romantic 
art. From him, in the main, tlie Eree-lovere appear 
to have derived both their philosophy and their terms. 
Was the word ''affinity" ever used befox.e his time for 
a natural mate? 

Gothe appears to have had a strong belief in the 
existence of some law of male and female friendship 
and kinship higher than our actual marriage would in 
every case now imply. Two of his early tales, Wer- 
ther's Burden and Free Affinities, were undertaken 
by him in order that he might work out his ideas on 


tliiH 1*0111(9 under fonii8 of eoc-iul life uihI ]iem)nal 
genius properly aclaptcil to the end which he kept in 

In both these stories, it is clear that Giithe sitles 
with the hero who is straining out his life against tlie 
conventional proprieties and moralities of his time; 
whence a dull and ignorant cry has been raised against 
these nohle works of art as dangerous reading for the 
young; as if dull and ignorant people, wanting insight 
and imagination, would not find the highest liteniture 
of every land, be it profane or be it sacred — the work 
of Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, Cer\'antes — the Bible, 
the Talmud, the Vedas, the Koran — to be dangerons 
reading for the young ! 

In the fii*st of these stories, Werther linds, too soon 
for his peace on earth, not too soon for his hope in 
heaven, that Charlotte is his free aflinity ; that he and 
she arc natural pairs, born for each other, and parted 
by the accidents of time and place. The great dis- 
covery is only made on the eve of Charlotte's e8i>ousaU 
with Albert ; and thus the struggle of two souls for a 
union which can never be brought about on earth 
makes up the dnima. Werther dies at last in a conli- 
dent belief that Charlotte is his natund mate, and that 
by the law of their common organization she will 
rejoin him in the skies. 

In the second stor)' (Wahl-Venvandtschaflcn) the 
same ideas are dealt with in what appears to be a more 
material spirit Nature supplies the basis, science the 
illustrations of Free Affinities; a tale wliich begins 
with a discourae on chenustry, and ends in the tragic 
peace of death. 

Gothe appears to have been pondering IMato's fancy 
of the split men. 

« With a dry sense of fun, which in its own grave 


Ptylc never been excelled, except, perhaps, in the 
writinps of hiR rival, Francis IW'on, Plato describes 
in the B.inquet how the human race bec«ime originally 
8plit into male and female. In the good old times, 
before men grew wicked in their thoughts, and heaven 
becanie alarmed for its own safety, there was no such 
thing known in the world as sex. Kvery living man 
was male and female; perfect in fonn, in faculty, in 
Hpirit The form in which he dwelt was a round ball 
of flesh, having four hands, four feet, two faces, and 
one bniin. Everj* jierfect thing, it is naid by Gothe, 
in passing, has the s]»herical form, from the sun and 
Htars down to a droj) of water. Angels are defects, 
and to round one's life is but a way of making it 
lovely. In the sexless period, man, being a ball of 
flesh, was a creature of inc*onceivable strength and 
swiftness. JIc could fell an ox, outrun a race-horse. 
When he wished to move cjuickly, he thrust out his 
four arms and legs, and rolled along the road like a 
wheel with eight spokes which had lost its tire. But 
these strong men, of no sex in particular, grew proud 
before the faces of the gods; so that, like Utus and 
Ephialtus, they nuide an attempt to scale the spheres, 
and cast the immorttds from their thrones. Zeus, in 
his anger, shot his bolts; cleaving them through the 
head downwards ; [larting each round wheel of flesh 
into two halves; sepamting the male side from the 
female side. Great was the agony and loss of power; 
the pain of cutting the two sides asunder was intense; 
and man, shorn of his rotundity, could no longer 
wrestle with the lion and outspeed the elk. Each 
part of the man had now to stand on two legs, — a 
feat of much skill, the art of which he was slow to 
learu and swift to lose. On his four legs he could 
either walk or ruui sleep or wake, play or rest. On 


liis two Icpfn, he couM neither roll nor sleep; neither 
couhl he stftiul very lonp nor walk very far. All his 
movements became 8K)W nnJ puinful. Every step 
wliicli he took only proved to him hin I068 of i»ower, 
and that the ji^ods had laid upon hid sin a burden diffi- 
cult to be borne. 

But thi« <laily misery of the flesh was not the worst 
Besides having to pai^ bin life in trying to ntund on 
two lei^8, man found that he wan parted from his female 
counterpail; wlnmi he called, in the idiom of grief^ 
1)18 better half and bin dearer self. When the daring 
rotundities were cleft in twain, the parts were scattered 
by celestial wrath. Each wounded fragment sought 
its fellow in the crowd, but the goils took care that 
much of the search should be made in vain. This 
hist blow broke man's spirit. Alone in the world, and 
j^errheil on two legs, what could he do? Once, in- 
deed — for the very worm on which you tread may 
turn — he felt tempted in his pain to cry out against 
Zeus; but the king of gods rose up in his wnith and 
said, that, if nmn wouhl not keep cpiiet on these green 
lields of earth, but would stortn up against the stars, 
he should be slit once more from the cro^ni down- 
wards, so that in future he should have to stand on a 
single leg. Man heard these woixls with a whitened 
face ; and Zeus was not provoked into a second essay 
with his bolts. 

All that was now left to man in his split condiUoUi 
beyond the acute remembrance of his former bliss, 
was a yearning liope of being one day able to rejoin 
liis second self. Every man became a seeker. The 
god, when parting men into halves, had torn the frag- 
ments fmm each other, and cast the pieces into clioos. 
Oidy a happy few could And their mates. Most men 
had to seek them long, and myriails never found them 


in tlie flcsli at nil. StrnngorB came together in the 
press, and for a little while imagined they were pairs; 
but time detected incongruities of soul, and then tho 
wearied sjiirita flew from each other in a rage. When, 
in the rare happiness of its search, a man fell in with 
his natural mate, a true marriage of the spirit in- 
stantly took place. To this great desire of the sev- 
ered parts for union, Plato says, has been given the 
name of Love. 

And so, adds the sage, by way of moral, let us take 
care not to oii*end the gods, lest we get our noses slit 
down, and have to stand in future on one leg. 

Gothe, though he may have taken liis hint from 
riato, treated his theory of natural mates in his own 
way ; which was that of material science. 

Eduard and Captiiin Otto are seated in the old 
Schloss, reading a book of science, when Lotto, 
£duard*s lovely wife, breaks in upon them. 

**Yott were reading something about aflinities; 1 
thought of two kinsfolk of mine, who arc occupying 
my thoughts ju8t now; but, on turning to the book, 
I see it is not about living things." 

**It is only about earths and ores," answered Kduard. 

"Would you mind telling me what is nteant by 
affinities?" asked the lady of Captain Otto. 

** If you will let me," wiys the Captain, and begins: 

"We see that all natural objects have a certain rela- 
tion to themselves." 

**Wo can make it clear to her, and to ourselves," 
breaks in Eduard, "by examples. Take water, oil, 
mercury: in each you see a certain unity, a connection 
of parts, which is never lost, except through forces 
acting from without; remove the force, and the parts 
become one again." 

"That is clear tome," ponders Lotte; "rain-drops 


run into streams, and globules of quicksilver part and 
melt into eaieli other; and I see that ha ever)'tliing has 
reference to itself, so it must have to other things." 

**Truo/* adds the Captain; "and the nature of tho 
relation depends on the things; which may run 
together freely like old friends, or lie as strangers side 
by side: those blen<ling easily, like wine and water; 
these resisting every attempt to unite them, like oil 
and water." 

" How like some people that one knows!" exclaims 

"lint there are third parties in nature/* says her 
husband, *'by the aid of which, those liostile elements 
may be induced to combine.*' 

** Yes," continues Otto, " by the help of an alkali, 
we can persuade water to combine with oil." 

** Is not this power the thing you mean by an 
affinity?" asks the lady. 

**True," says Captain Otto, getting on to perilous 
ground with his fair hearer; ^^sucli natures as, on 
coming near, lay hold of each other, and niodiiy each 
other, we call affinities. The alkalies seek the acids, 
and form in combination a new substance. Lime, 
you know, has the strongest ardor for all kinds of 
acids, and if you give it a chance, will be switl to com- 
bine with them." 

**It seems to me," says Lotte, pondering, "that 
these things are related to each other, not in the 
blood, so to speak, so much as in tho spirit." 

"You have not heard the best," adds her husliand; 
"those affinities whicli bring about separations are of 
higher interest than the others." 

"Take the ease," says Otto, "of limestone; a more 
or less pure calcareous eartli, in union with a very 
delicate acid. If we put this bit of stone into weak 


Rulplinric ncid, what have wo? The lime enters into 
union with the sulphuric acid and becomes g}'psum ; 
the delicate acid escaped into the air. This is a case 
of Free Affinity." 

Every reader of Gothe knows how the story runs 
from chemistiy into love; Captain Otto coming in, 
like tlie Hul[)huric acid, as a separating agent between 
Eduard and his charming wife; Eduard finding his 
own free affinity in FrUulein Ottilie; and the four 
friends who love and respect each other making ship- 
wreck of their lives; until the two liapless victims of 
a conventional morality are laid side by side in the 
chapel, where they find peace and rest. 



IT is an odd fact in the history of this social develop- 
ment, that the scientific phase of Free Affinities, 
which in Europe came up later than the Spiritual 
phase of eternal brides, should have been the first to 
establish its empire in the United States. 

This scientific phase of Free Affinities came in with 
Robert Owen, and may be said to have Uiken root in 
the soil under the skilful planting of his son, Robert 
Dale Owen, an<l that son's fellow-worker, Frances 
Wright. To tlie socialism taught by these preachers, 
may be traced the various schools of Free Love which 
are now found flourishing in Boston and New York. 

About the time when Archdeacon Ebel was pre- 
paring his marriage- feast for the Lamb in Konigsberg) 


Kobcrt Owen, of New Ijaniirk fame, waH cnWnig the 
Atlantic Oi'oan from liiverpool, with a view to bring- 
ing liis schenio tor tlio rcijjeneration of society under 
notice of the l*rosi<lont and people of the United 
States. Strong in liis faith, Owen appeared in \VviA\- 
ington as tlie anthor of a new science of life. The 
President wan ptdite, tiie people cnrious. Some good 
men and more good women, felt their hearts expand 
towards his dream of a new Kden in the Far West; a 
paradise in which he told them tliero wonld he no 
longer any war and crime, because there would he no 
longer any soldiera and i>olice. The great family of 
man was to he governe<l in future by the law of love. 
Owen's two watchwords, Harmony and Association, 
passed from lip to lip, from page to page, through a 
thousand organs of the pulpit and the press, until a 
host of eager reformers had more than half )>ersuaded 
themselves that the world could be saved by a phnisc. 

When Owen proposed to buy up the town of Xe\v 
Ilannony, founded in the wilds of Indiana by Freder- 
ick Kiipp as a German religious conmiunity, he found 
many friends in Boston and New York ready to assist 
him in the enterprise. The Kappites, having failed as 
a trading society, were induced to sell their vineyanls, 
farms, and shanties on the Wabash Hiver; and a strong 
troop of scientiiic socialists marched upon the ground, 
pledged to repair a disaster which Owen had felt no 
scruple in describing as the necessary consequence of 
trying to carry on hunnm society in a religious spirit 

The Lanark reformer made no secret of his own 
unbelief; in fact, he spoke of the Bible as a baneful 
book ; yet he was received by the churches, even by 
those in Puritan New England, with a measure of 
silence and respect. lie was not a man on whom it 
wonld have been wise to make open war. His fame 


was great, liis aims were lofty, aiul bis life was pure. 
He liad eonic to offer a free people liis gift of a new 
science; and tlic old conservative churclies, wise in 
tiieir re^^erve and silence, had only to leave the enthu- 
siast and his friends alone. Many who would not 
have listened to Owen's philosophical heresies, were 
anxious that his scheme of fraternal co-operation 
should lie faiirly tried : and it was only through the 
failure of his plans at New Harmony in Indiana, fol- 
lowed hy the similar failures of New Orbiston in 
Lanarkshire, and Tytherly in Hants, that he passed 
away, after some years, into the dreary list of false 
pretenders to a nuistcry over the secret resources of 
social art. 

In tlie speeches of Kobert Owen there was indirect 
assault on nuirriage as an institution ; but the atUick 
was scarcely veiled; since the very tirst conception 
of a socialistic state is such a relation of the sexes 
as shall prevent men and women from falling into 
selfish family groups. Family life is eternally at war 
with social life. When you have a private household, 
you must have personal property to feed it; hence a 
community of goods — the first idea of a social state — 
has been foun<l in every case to imply a community 
of children and to promote a connnunity of wives. 
That you cannot have socialism without introducing 
communism, is the teaching of all experience, whether 
the trials have been nmde on a large scale or on a 
small sc4ile, in the Old World or in the New. All the 
Pentecostal and Universal Churches have begun their 
career with a strong disposition towanls that fraternal 
state in which private property is unknown; some 
have travelled along that line, adopting all the con* 
elusions to which the journey led them ; while others 
have turned back in alarm on seeing that the fraternal 


theory wiia at war witli all tho Rnorocl traditions of 

Tho Shakers founded their societiefl on the ruins of 
family life. The Mormons, in order to save their 
family life, have hcen forced to give up their inclina- 
tion towards a common j»roperty in tho Lonl. Tho 
Princeites of Spaxton have to renounce their old 
ways of thinking when they place their feet in the 
Ahode of Love. The Bihlc Communists found their 
logical term in the doctrine, which thoy adopted, of 
a common right in goods and wives. All the social 
reformers who have striven to reconcile the family 
group with the general fund have failed; though some 
of these reformers, like the pioneers at Brook Farm, 
were men of consummate abilities and unselfish aims. 

For a long time this result of Owen's system lay 
hid; a thing latent and unnoticed; it was only when 
the theory came into contact with realities that men 
saw how far the people who rushed into these new 
Edens were driven into the assumption of fresh re- 
lations with each other, beyond what the law allowed. 

Dale Owen (the son of Robert Owen) and his fe- 
male companion, Frances Wright, threw oft' the mask 
which had been worn by their party, and in the mem- 
orable tour which they made thnmgh the United 
States, as champions of a new order, they boldly put 
tho Bible, and all that has been foun<led on its teach- 
ing, under ban and curse; and in the place <»f these 
old-world theories, advocated their two great doc- 
trines of Free Love and Free Divorce. 

Dale Owen, who settled in America, soon became 
one of its leading citizens; filling high oi&ces, both 
at home and abroad — magistrate, representative, iseu- 
ator, ambassador — until, by his eloquence, his sagacity, 
and his daring, he has come to occupy a positiou 




wliieh ifl unknown to the law, and i« describoil, even 
by men wlio hate liini, as tluit of Privy Councillor to 
the republic. Dale Owen was the soul of the demo- 
cratic party, wliile that party had a real life of its 
own. Wlien he parted from it, as he did on the 
questions of ne<^ro freedom and of female suffrage, 
the party splintered off into a <lozen fragments — war 
democratic, peace democrats, copperhoa<ls, Vallandig- 
liamitos, dead-beats, C(»p|)er-JohnHons, and the like. 
On every point of policy, Dale Owen stands in the 
front; so far in front that sober men, lagging far 
behind him in the march, are apt to think he is always 
standing on the verge of chaos. This Privy Council- 
lor of the republic pleads for every sort of ecpiality ; 
that of husband and wife, that of Negro and 8axon, 
that of earth and heaven. To liim a man is a man, 
whether he be male or female, white or black ; and 
being a gentleman of fine presence, of noble culture, 
and of great intellectual power, he has the art of 
quickly persuading njen to accept his doctrines. 

But the work which is most of all his own — the 
fruit of his own spirit — was that which he achieved 
in company witli Frances Wright. 

This clever and excitable woman had been stung 
into frenzy by what she fancied were two great dis- 
coveries of her own : first, that the earth is over- 
peopled ; an<I second, that the law of marriage, now 
enforced by the church, makes every woman who 
adopts it a slave. She found it was her mission to 
make known these truths; and being a charming 
speaker, as well as a strong writer, she chose to make 
thorn known from both tlio platform and the press. 
2She was not, however, a pivacher of despair. Bad as 
things were, she saw her way to a euro for all tho 
evils under which the world then groaned. The 

sriwoL OF owKx. m 

number of inontIi}« to l>c fed inuHt he rcilnccd; and 
woman must be tVccd i'runi bcr bri<lal Iioiids. 

In England, her native country, where nhc iin«t 
made public her diHcoverie**, people hiiiiched nt hor; 
they had heard female lecturers before lier day, and 
did not like tliem ; nay, they ha<l IieanI these very 
things proclaimed and illuHtrated by men and women 
of far higher genius than Frances Wriglit The fe- 
male reformer woubl have gone back to licr knitting 
in despair, had »he not fallen in with a true mate of' 
her own belief in J)ale Owen, who was then aliout to 
leave liis country for what he thought was a new and 
better worhl. Female te«rln»rs were not then a drug 
on the American soil ; ami Dale Owen pn>posi*d that 
the eIo<|Ueiit rhapmxlist should go with him to the 
United States. She went, and she enjoyetl a greait 
success. In the republic every one was free. She 
brought out a paper, called The Free Kufpiirer; she 
announced courses of lectures on liberty in marriage 
and divorce; when the shoiwwomcn of Bn>adway, 
and the hnlies of Fifth Avenue, ran to hear their 
husbands denounced as tyrants, and their wedding- 
riuj^s (lescribcd as chains. In that country no state- 
church couM frown upon her; no society could put 
a sti;i:nui on her brow. She was free to teach and to . 
l»reach, to reason and to write. All these things she 
did in a way to shock the more pious and conservative 
niinds; yet with so much art that neither she, nor 
her male adviser, was ever treated to the rough in- 
justice by which public opinion in America sometimes 
supplies the defects of law. Dale Owen and Frances 
Wright were neither Uirred ami feathereil, nor set 
upon a rail, as had been done with the Rev. Charles 
Mead and the Rev. Jdlin 13. Foot. In the northern 
cities, most of all in >iew York, they began to found 


H school of refonnor8, bent on slackening the bonds 
of marriage; first, by acting on public opinion 
tlirough the press; afterwards by proposing measures 
of redress for injured wives in the local legislative 

The partners in this crusade against family life 
divided the field of attack between tlicm : Dale taking 
the population question, Frances the marriage question. 
Dale Owen wrote a book called Moral Physiology, 
in which he prt)posed a new theory for limiting the 
number of mouths to be fed. It was a daring book, and 
many pious people denounced it as the spawn of hell ; 
but the abuse of men who were known for their old- 
fashioned virtues only helped it into wider notice. 
More than by any other class, it is said to have been 
read and pondered by the clergy. I have reason to 
think it suggested the vagaries of the Rev. The- 
opbilus Gates; and I happen to know that it gave 
the first hint of his system to Father Noyes, 



8CU00L or FOrRIKU. 

WHILE Dale Owen aiul Francos Wri/jlii were sow- 
ing their seed of scientifu* Kocialirtni through the 
land, Alhert Brishano arrivctl in Now York with a 
gospel of Bocial j»n>gre88 in hi« hand, which aftected 
to reeoncile the two bontile principlen of n^sociation 
and personal property, and both these principles with 
the more sacred dogma of family life. Urishane, a 
man of high character and remarkable ]K>wers, hud 
made a journey to Paris, in onler to study in the best 
quarters the new system of society proposed by Charles 

In his own country, Fourier was as great a failure 
as Kobert Owen bad been in PiUgland. But, besides 
this fact of failure, there was so much of like nature 
in the lives and in the systems of these two men, that 
4Uie could almost write a history of mie in the others 
name. Owen and Fourier were born, within ii year of 
each other; they sprung from the trading classes; and 
the only education they received wsis such as fit men 
for the counting-house and the ex<*hange. They both 
engaged in business, and failed in it. They were both 
induced to study the present state of society by notic- 
ing the diiiiculties which men find in the way of ex- 
changing what they have for what they need. Full 
of this idea, they went up from the country to the 
capital : in Owen's case to London ; in Foaricr'a 
case to Paris. Each bad the good fortune to find 


r,74 SViniTVAL WIVES. 

Olio royal and illuf»trioiifl friend — Owen in the Duke 
of Kent, Fourier in Charles the Tenth. Each was 
able to nurround himself with a nnmbcr of eager 
and obscure disciples, who seized his doctrine with 
applause, and strove to ex]»lain it to the world. For 
those regenerators of mankind were equally wanting 
in junver of oxpros.'^ion and equally jioor in liteniry 
art. Young men and women went about preaching 
thoir doctrines — Mrs. Frances Wright ox]>laining th« 
system of Owen in Kns;lan<l, while Madame Clarissa 
Vigoreux was doing the same scrvico for Fourier in 
Fnincc. Kaoh saw newspapers born and buried in his 
cause ; each outlive<l his name an<I fame in Europe ; 
and each was destined, tlirough disciples, to achieve 
results in the New Worhl which he liad been unable 
to secure in the Old. 

Like Kobert Owen, the French reformer was wholly 
ignorant of modern science. When he arrived in Paris 
lie was received bv the Iearnc<l men with scorn, and 
by the witty men with jokes and laughter. The 
blunders in his books are almost beyond belief; for, 
like his tenude followers, Eliza Farnham and Elizabeth 
])ontoii, he ha<I got his facts about the universe inuu 
visions of the night. Thus he told his disciples that 
the stars and planets are living beings, like men and 
women, with the same passions and desires, the same 
hunger and thirst, the same fear and anger; that the 
stars make love to each other, come together in bridal 
pairs, and send their oflspring out as colonists into 
space; that sun, moon, and planets, each in turn, has 
had a part in creating what we see of earth ; the Sun 
having called into being on its )>osom the elephant, 
the dianumd, and the oak ; Ju]»iter, the cow, the topaz, 
and the jompiil ; 8atum, the horse, the ruby, and the 
lily; while the Earth produced, by a kind of sponta- 

T . 

* . -. •-» 

■ '- . **■' l*-iT. at the ajfo 

* -* ■ ^ -r*4- . : ; ■ .•.; •#: -^Kricty whom tho 
■ " -^"•^ ■'•..■.■. !iiT'»*iintMl ill 1^42 to hU 

*,y /./; /.,« ji.iy<n f/# ihf) j^n'JirhiTH of UHs<M'Uition o:* 
•.,« r«' -// Krffifij riioili'l ; iiMMMiii^^H wi'iv XwAvX in iKt:^ 
f'lM, rifiiHfJ''l|t|iiii, ihilliiiii»ri\ ('iiuiiiiiu;!, as w^ii ;^s :a 
'tv V«iik ; iiikI ill l«*Nii Ihiiii u vi^iir iwnw the ««a:« ^v 


Brisbane's landinjs^ in Amcricn, the whole country 
seemed to be ntlame with zeal for this new French 
gospel. Fourier's own writings were not read, and 
his ideas were very little known. Public opinion was 
not in those days strongly opposed to any fair investi- 
gation of the problems of social life ; but there was in 
this French writer u cynical disrcganl for domestic 
virtue — as English and American men conceive of 
domestic virtue — which would have jarred unpleas- 
antly on the Puritan mind. Fourier's thoughts were 
given to the public in very small doses; something 
was concealed, still more was modified, not a little 
was denied. Henry J. Raymond, a magnate of the 
New York press, afterwards so famous as the conli- 
dential friend of Abraham Lincoln, led a tierce attack 
on this French system ; exposing, with a merciless 
logic, all its offences against good sense, and showing 
that lite in the phalanx, as conceived by the founder 
of French socialism, was opposed in spirit, if not in 
fact, to the existing marriage bond. Greeley, though 
lie ccmid not deny that Fourier had contemplated a 
frectlom between the sexes hardly consistent with a 
high repute for morality, protested that in the phalanx 
prop<«sed by Brisbane and supported by himself, the 
original plans of the French theorist had been so far 
nunlificd as to bring them within the range of Amer- 
ican noti(»ns of moral right. The fact remained, and 
in time it became known, that Fourier's system could 
not be re<'oiu'iliMl, any more than Owen's system could 
be reconciled, with the partition of mankind into those 
special groups called families, in which people live 
together, a life devised by nature, under the close rela- 
tion of husband and wife, of parent and child. 

More than one experimental search afler what was 
called the better life had to be made before all the 

srnooL OF foiiukr. rs 

iioou« generation, tlie <lop, the violet, and tlie o|»aL lie 
told his wonilerinix diseipleft that tlie infant tH ut birth 
a mere animal, like a tadpole, and has a 8011I given to 
it only with itn teeth: that this 8oul is 8ul>jeet to tu'o 
Borts of immortality — one simple, the other unhound; 
that men have many lives, of many dift'ercnt kinds, i«o 
that in the order of nature there is no prcferenee aiiJ 
injnstice; that kings, queen:*, bean ties, scholars, prineea, 
judges, an<l all other persons favore<I in the present 
life, were paupers, criminals, and huuities, in the pre- 
vious world ; that all those who arc now condenmcd 
by their hiilh to a life of pain, hunger, misery, and 
disgrace, will, in the next stage of existence, live on 
the brighter side of nature, becoming lovely in person 
as well as rich in the git>s of genius and of birth. A 
few months only bcft>rc Trcvcthick put liis first iron 
horse upon the road, Fourier, lamenting that nnin has 
no easier an<l swifter way of tmvelling from Lyons to 
Taris than by the old French diligence, pr^iphi^sicil 
that miture would shortly produce some new creatun»« 
of the land, the sea, and the air, called anti-lions, anti- 
w*hales, and anti-condors, which mighty beasts, fisheis 
and birds, should be able, when duly tamed ami 
trained, to draw men along at the miraculous sliced 
of thii*ty miles an hour! 

Fourier died in Paris, in the year 1837, at the ago 
of iiily-fivc, exhausted in body and in mind. 

Such was the grand reformer of society w*]iom the 
brilliant Albert Brisbane introduced in 1842 to his 
countrymen by a series of public lectures in New 
York. Horace Greeley, of the New York Tribune, 
opened his pages to the preachers of association on 
this new French model; meetings were held in Bos- 
ton, l^hiladelphia, Baltimore, (rnicinnati, as well as in 
New York ; and iu less than a year from the date of 


Brisbane's landing in Amerion, the whole country 
seemed to be allame with zeal for this new French 
gospel. Fourier's own writings were not read, and 
his idejis were very little known. Public opinion was 
not in those days strongly opposed to any fair investi- 
gation of the problems of social life; but there was in 
this French writer a cynical disregard for domestic 
virtue — as English and American men conceive of 
domestic virtue — which would have jarred unpleas- 
antly on the Puritan mind. Fourier's thoughts were 
given to the public in very small doses ; something 
w*as concealed, still more was modified, not a little 
was denied. Henry J. Raymond, a magnate of the 
New York press, afterwards so famous as the confi- 
dential friend of Abraham Lincoln, led a fierce attack 
on this French system ; exposing, with a merciless 
Idgic, all its offences against good sense, and showing 
that life in the phalanx, as conceived by the founder 
of French socialism, was opposed in spirit, if not in 
fact, to the existing marriage bond. Greeley, though 
he could not deny tliJit Fourier had contemplated a 
freedom between the sexes hardly consistent with a 
high n'i»ntc for niorality, protested that in the phalanx 
j^roposeil by Brisbane and supported by himself, the 
original plans of the French theorist had been so far 
mwlificd as to bring them within the range of Amer- 
ican notions of moral right. The fact remained, and 
in time it iK'came known, that Fourier's system could 
not be re<'on*Mlc<l, any more than Owen's system could 
be reconciled, with the partition of mankind into those 
special gn>up8 called families, in which people live 
together, a life devised by nature, under the close rela- 
tion of husband and wife, of parent and child. 

More than one experimental search after what was 
called the better life had to be made before all the 


world, iiichiilinpr the seekers theniHelves, were lirou^Hit 
to admit the faihire of tliis attempt to eomhine at*."^ 
eiated lahor witli personal property and domestic life. 
The first in date, and hest in meunn, was a vilhijccat 
Red Bank, in Monmouth County, New Jersey; for 
which a number of New York hankers were persuadeil 
to supply the fund^. Six hundred aeren of land were 
bouglit for the company; two hundre<I of which eouW 
be easily broun^ht under plough and spade. The laud 
was not rich ; but the dressing which it most required, 
marl, was found in two large beds on the estate. A 
stream nm through the pn)perty, feeding a pretty lake, 
and serving to turn a mill. Clumps of trees, and a 
deep furrow in the ground, made the jdare naturally 
picturesque. Five miles of sandy road led to the tidal 
river, by which there was daily intercourse with New 

With funds supplied by the bankers, a big house 
was built, on the model of a Sanitoga hostelry ; with 
rooms for a hundred and fit*ty guests; single rooms 
for bachelors and maids; double rooms for marricHl 
tblks; and suites of rooms for families. There was a 
common liall, a dining-room, a dairy, a kitchen, a 
store-house, an<l other oftices, but no cha|Kd or chuixdi. 

Into this settlement of Red Bank, which tbey called 
the North American Phalanx, a body of refonning 
zealots, drawn from various classes of society, includ- 
ing an Episcopalian clergyman and a Unitarian minis- 
ter, began to move. They laid themselves out for a 
better and a pleasanter life, and yet with a strict reso- 
lution to make their experiment pay. 

The first thing to be done at Red Bank was to cre- 
ate a new public opinion on the subject of manual 
lalK)r; so that the works which are commonly held in 
contempt, such ascleaning shoi^s, milking eow*R, sweep- 

3:h s PI inn A L wives, 

ing floors, and Remng the tnhlo, slioiiM lie raiscil into 
tlio In^rlK^J^t onlcr of emplovnicnt?*. This was not fto 
fliflii'iilt aft it might «ecni. Tliat which is done by the 
hcKt, 8oon comes to he thonglit the hcst. A scholar, 
a clergyman, a hanker, were selected to clean the 
boots and scrub the floors; the girls were called into 
a room, and those who were judged to be the loveliest 
and the cleverest were elected as a great honor to wait 
upon the com|mny. " How did you like the service ?" 
I asked a lady in New York, who had been a waiter 
in the Phalanx, "(luess, I liked it very much," she 
answereil ; •* in the first place, all the pretty girls were 
waiters, and no one who thought well of her beauty 
likt'd to he left out; and then we all dined by our- 
selves aftenvanls, when the stupids were gone, and 
we used to have great fun." It turned out just the 
eame among the men ; and idle fellows who liked to 
moon about and smoke, soon came to slip into the 
laundry and beg, as a favor, from one of the shoe- 
blacks, permission to polish oft* a dozen pairs of boots. 

Too much is said to have been efibcted at Red Bank 
for manual labor, and too little for the higher ]»ur- 
poses of life. Religion wtis put aside as obsolete; 
and science, in the name of which these rc»formers 
had thrown thenjselves upon the land, was left un 
taught. An old French teacher, himself in want of 
many masters, was set to tfsiin the boys and girls in 
useful knowledge ; but, in truth, they learned nothing 
from him, not even how to read and write. 

All the women at Ked Rank wore the short skirt 
and loose trousers invented by the ladies of Oneida 
Creek ; and in the eyes of strangers they looked in 
this utt ire exceedingly comely and picturesque. 

The attempt to found a social state in combination 
with the family group heg:in to show signs of failure 


llio vory instant the settlers rem^hcnl Keti Bank; 
tliongli the eommunity diil not clisporpo until they 
had Kpent tlie best part of their ffharehoMcra' ca|»ital. 
Sinjijle men eoniphiined tliat they liad to work for 
oliildren who were not their own. JSinurt young maiili 
pereeivod that they Imd to bear the bunions, without 
gliaring in the pleasuren, of married women. FoIk« 
witli small familie8 objected to folks with Iar/2^ ones. 
What was called the division of profits was seen to 
be a joke ; since in most years there was nothing to 
divide ; and when there chanced to be a surplus in tlio 
till, no fair balance could be struck. When the dis- 
content had grown to a sniKcient height, the bubble 
burst, Kcd Bank was sold to New Jersey farmers, niid 
the reformers of nninkind returned with chastened 
fancies to the humdrum routine of city life. 

A still more famous trial in fraternal living, was that 
poetii' picnic, so to say, whicli was proposed by tlio 
Rev. George Ripley, carried out by a number of New 
England men and women, and used by Hawthorne a:) 
the scene of his Blithedale Komance. Kipley, a man 
wh<» combines the finest culture with the highest 
daring, told me the story of this singular settlement; 
in which he was assisted, more or less closely, by mea 
no less eminent than Channing, Curtis, Parker, Emer- 
son, Dana, Hawthorne, Dwight, and by a woman no less 
notable than Margaret Fuller. A true history of that 
experiment, in which so many lights of American 
literature lit their torches, is a pressing want, which it 
may be hoped that the author of that experiment will 
some day write. 

These young enthusiasts of society were nearly all 
Cambridge men, members of the Unitarian Church ; 
and the movement which they commenced at Brook 
Fann near Boston, was religious, edueational, and 


artistic, as well as social. The men and women who 
joined it hoped to live a better and purer life than 
they had done in the great city. They wanted to re- 
fine domestic manners, to ennoble manual toil ; and 
to some extent they achieved these expectations. They 
did not seek to interfere with marriage; nay, they 
guarded that holy state with reverence ; yet the spirit 
of fraternal association was found to weave itself with 
infinite subtleties into the most tender relations of 
man and woman. Fear came into the common dwell* 
ing; and even if this picnic of poets and lovely women 
Iiad not been a failure on other grounds, the rivalries 
of Zenobia and Priscilla would unquestionably have 
sent Brook Farm the way of Red Bank. 



TIIEliE is only too much reason to fear that the \ 
eflivt of all this teaching on the part of those who 
sought after the better life — of Dale Owen and , 
Frances Wright, of Albert Brisbane and Clarisse ( 
Vigoreux, of George liipley and Margaret Fuller — : 
was a vast increase in America of those irregular / 
unions of men and women which, though known in ; 
many parts of Europe, are nowhere half so dangerous . 
to public morals as in the United States. 

When a man and woman either in France or Eng* 
land dally with the thought of entering into any of 
these lawless unions^ which arelcnown in America I 
as a state of Free Love — unions contracted freely by \ 


tbe parties, but on a clear uiidcretaiuliniif that thej are 
time-bargains only, made to last either for a fixed terra, ! 
subjcca to renewal, or simply tor so long a time as the ' 
l«irtncrs please — they know very well that the world ^^ 
will not be with them, and that they eaii only live the / 
life they are clioonin^ to adopt under a social ban. In 1 
their own hearts, such u man and woman may be able 
to find excuses for what they do ; they nmy fancy that 
they lie under the strain of some special wrong, for 
which the law can yield them no redress ; and they 
may feel that social w^rong lias driven them into set- 
ting all social laws asi<Ie. Rut they do not pretend tOt 
think that what they are doing is right, and that the. 
w(»rld is false and iiendish because it holds up before 
them the cluqiters of an immutable nionil code by; 
which they stand condemnctl. The woman who in' 
Kngland claims to be a law unto herself, will yet daily 
and hourly pray to (JSod that her child may never have 
to face that question of acting on the individual will. 

In the United States it is not so. The grcait dis-| 
parity in the two sexes, which in that country nuikes 
the female master of every situation, has deprived 
society of the conserN'ative force engendered by fear 
and shame. No woman in that country needs to care 
whether she oftends or not. If she is right in her (»wu 
belief, that is enough; she is hardly more responsible 
to her lover than to her groom. Instead of having all \ 
siiciety against her, she finds a certain portion of it, 
and tliat of a class distinguished in some degree by 
art and culture, on her side. Free Love, instead of ^ 
being universally condemned, has in America its poets, 
orators, and preachers ; its new'spapers, lecture-halls, 
excursions, picnics, and colonies — all of which help 
to give it a certain standing and authority in her eyes. I 

The poets of Free Love, chiefly females, are nuuier-/ 


0118, but of no high rank in the diviner arts of Bong. 
Their verse is simple, senRuons, natunil, with an occa- 
siona] touch of beauty. Lizzie Doten, Fanny Ilyzer, 
T. N. Harris, and 6. S. Burleigh, arc the names of 
four out of a hundred, who have tuned their harps to 
make music of Free Love. One specimen of this 
poetry may be welcome. It is a declaration of love, 
divided into two parts ; one ])art describing the love 
that will bless the happy pair in free couitship, the 
second part describing that which bless them in free 
union. The sentiment is scientific. Firat part : — 


■*I wiU loYe thee as the flowers loTt, 

That in the summer weather. 
Each staiidinfi; in its own place, 

Lran ro2<y lips together, 
And pour their sweet confession 

Through a petal's bended palm, 
With A breath thai only deepens 

The ature-lidded calm 
Of the hcaYcns bending o>r them, ^ 
And the bluebells hung before them. 
All whose o«lor in the silence is a psalm. 

**I will lore thee as the dews lore. 

In chambers of the lily, 
Hnng orb-like and unmeet ing. 

With their flashes bending stilly, 
By the white shield of the petals 

Held a little way apart ; 
While all the air is sweeter, 

For the yearning of eaeh heart,— 
That yet keep clear and crystal 
Their globed spheres celestial, 
WhUe to and fro their glimmers erer dart. 

**I will lore tbe« as the stars loYe, 
In sanctity cnfolden. 
Thai tnnt in consteUations 
Tbtir barpa diYinc and golden. 

Fnt th« lira.- nf ih« tnrnitn. 
And mra ilnr lo ■■■« aooiktr 

For ibe l>lrK«in^ Ibe; bcMow 
On iIk wrarj awl Ibp wkMcd 

B; (by tinrri nanr wiih ih* upli 

An<l lli; biimaa li«ari'a cTaagcla, 

Bball n/ Iom frDDi boljr •ilrnea U lb« 

"I will 1o*c Ihec aa Ike clnu>l 1«tm 
The fofl clmiil nf tka aummer ; 
Thai winOa ila prarlj aTina rouai 

The tonj-t'iMrA comer, 
InierHTFHlhlnic lilt lull one elowl 

llaiipo •l«fr-lik<' in ihe blue, 
An<l Ihrnwa no •lia<l<iw rarlbward, 

lliil onljr nrciar ilrw 
Fnr Ihe riM-ii hlunhinf; under: 
Anil, puriAc'l from ibim'lpr, 
noata otiward wiili ibo rich lighl nellli 

" I will love ihce aa llie rtj» love. 
That quiver dovn the ellier. 
That manf-hiird in ioliluda. 

Are pure white hnil lagdher; 
And If Ihe hnTCM darken, 

3S4 SriRinrAL WIVES. 

* I will love thee ah the ^weetv loTt« 

From dewy rose ind lily. 
That fold together cloud-like. 

On lephyrs riding ptilly, 
Till charmM bAnl and lover. 

Drunk with the scented galea. 
Name one sweet and another, 

Not knowing which prevails ; 
The winged airs caress them, 
The hearts of all things bless them : 
So will we float in lore that never fails. N 

**I will love thee as the gods love — \ 

The Father God and Mother, 
Whojic intermingled Being is 

The life of every other, — 
One, absolute in Two-ness, 

Tiic universal power, 
Wedding I«ove the never-ending. 

Through planet, mnn, and flower ; 
Through all our notes shall run this 
Indissoluble oneness. 
With music ever deepening every hour." 

Ca|itain Otto, Giithc's champion of aftinitieR, would 
. have hceii content with these phynical RyiuboU of a 
piuidion which 00 many of U8 think divine. 

Uinler the tcacliing of tlii* sort of nons^ and sci- 
ence, a class of American women lias been hrouglit to 
conf«iund the nionil sense so far as to tliink that it is 
right for a girl t«) oliey her nature sis some of the reli- 
gious zealots say it is right for man to follow the 
leading of the Spirit AVhcn one of these emancipated 
females departs from what the world would call the 
straight line of her duty, she claims to be following 
*'the higher law/' and begs mankind to admire her 
courage and applaud her act. Thus, it happens, that 
a lady who prefers to live in temporar}*, rather than in | 
permanent marriage, with the man she loves, does not ' 
quietly submit in America to a complete exclugion 


from Rocioty. Slio aRw^rta a right to think for hcwcH 
in the matter of wodlook, as in everj-thing oUo. Ii 
the monil question, nhe asks, of higher note than the 
religious ((uestion ? In lionie anil countries like 
Sliain, 8)ie can nntlerstand that any departure of either 
man or woman from the usual rules, shonhl he followed 
hy a social eurse; society in such countries being 
inspired and guided hy an infallihle cliurch ; but iu 
Ijer own free repuhlic, where tlie law knows nothing 
of a church, either fallihle or infallihle, who has the 
right to launch a social curse? If a woman is frccto^ 
make lier own terms with (lod, why should she not be 
free to make her own terms with man ? Is heaven of 
less account than earth ? Indeed, does not the higher 
liberty involve the lower? Free love is, she thinks, a ' 
necessary sequence ot' free faith. Why, then, in acting 
on her right, shouM she suffer a social stigma? ' 

Such are the reasonings and the protest^^ of a host 
of female preachers and writers; of ladies like Fran- 
ces Wright, Lizzie Doten, and Corah IIat(*h. 

The number of persons living openly in this kiml 
of free union is believed to be very great ; so many 
that the churches and the law courts have been eoni- 
jielled to recognize their existence. While I was in 
Ohio a curious case of Free Love occupied public at- 
tention. A man and wonnm professing this ])riuciplc, 
had lived together in Cincinnati, made money, reared 
a family of boys and girls, and then died. They had 
not been married as the law directs. They bad sim- 
ply gone to their circle, taken each other's word, and 
then begun to keep Iiouse. No form Iiad been usc<l 
that could he called a contract No entry of their 
pledges l!ud been made. It was simply suid in behalf 
of these children, that the parents had undertaken, in' 
the presonee of some other liberal spiritis, to live to- 
I ua z 


gethcr a« long as they liked. On these grounds the 
children olnimed the property Icfk by their parents; 
and the court of law, after much consideration of the / 
factH, allowed their claim. 

Some anger was excited by a decision which seemed 
to put the natural right of these children above the 
legal right. All circles declared the verdict a blow 
against marriage. 

Among the confessions placed in my hands by 
Americans, is a paper by ^Ir. B. M. Lawrence, a Free 
Lover, of Boston, in Massachusetts, from vvliich an 
extract may be given which will show by an authentic 
case in what wa^these irregular unions, called Free- ] 
Love Bridals, are nuide : — ^ 


" nwton, Fib. 1S67. 
'* Having minghMl much with the world at largo, and ^ 
with tlio rcform(*rH and Hptritunlists particularly, and see- \/ 
ing so much of domcntio inliarmony, my mind was made 
up never to marry, when a Bible Sph'itual MtMlium came 
itonio miles to meet me, sent, alio said, like Peter to Cor- 
nelius, to testify to nie concerning the tliin^H of tho com- 
ing kingdom of heaven ; and she told mo that tho hoiiov- 
ers muHt enter in in pairs, and that among tho things 
lacking in my casd was a ir/fV*/ — that I must and won hi 
fMMMi find my mate, and, that until then I would moot with 
nothing but disappointments ; that I would know her 
i«oon, nn we should meet, etc. Sure enough, troubles 
came; *fi;^htings within, and foars without.* A ^i*oat 
fire at Syracuse burned up tho Journal oOi<*e, with all our 
bills, culH, and sterootyjw ]>latos. My partner, Mr. C, 
letX me alone ; and 1 concluded to go to a mooting of the 
Friends of Progress at St*>ck)>ort, N. Y., and by request, 
I visited the farm of Mr. 11., whore tho women work out- 
of-doors, and tbey have some of tho community spirit. 


*' Hero I mot willi a yoiiii^ iniisio-loaolior frf>ni Qiiincy, 
MussacliUHotU, by tlio nuine of PriKoillu Jimiom; strange 
aH it may a]>poar, I folt that bIio was to become my wife as 
80011 Vk» 1 hoard her iiaino npokon \ aiul two da^'M later, at 
the f«>ot of Niagara's roof of raiiibowH, ba]»ti£ed by th« 
mists of heaven, we plodded ourselvoK to unite our dcHti- 
iiios. and work t«»;x«Mhor f«>r human wolfan\ ho lon;;iu)it 
was mutually agreeable; and the next Sunday at tho 
c'loHo of the convention, we publicly promimMi to live 
to;rethor an busband antl wife. ]). M. L." 

Mr. Lawrence and Mi»8 Jones, plcd^^iig each other, 
niid unitinp^ their destinies under Niugaru*8 reef of 
rainbows, mean no more by this proiuise of living as 
husband and wife, and working together for human 
welfare, tliun that ho and she will live together b«> long 
OS tlie fancy holds them ! 

The Free Level's, who liave their head-quarters in I 
New York, liave various settlements throughout the, 
country, in wliich their principles are said to reign' 
supreme. The most famous, perhaps, of tliese settle- 
ments Arc the villages culled Berlin Heights and 
Mixlcrn Times. 

Berlin Heights is a village in the State of Ohio, in 
which bands of Free-Lovers have settled so as to 1)0 
a comfort and protection to each other; also for the i 
conveniences ottered to hajdcHs pairs by a large matri- 
monial exchange. Many ])eople come and go, and 
the population of Berlin Heights, I am tcdd, is always 
changing. Ko one likes to stay there long; the o<lor 
of the place being rather rank, even in the nostrils of 
an emancipated female. But the Free-Lovers tell you 
that a great many persons sympathize with the free 
life on Berlin Heights, who in their social cowardice 
shrink from writing their names in the visitoi*!)* books. 

A more imi^ortant si>ciety of Free-L<»vera has been 


broiiglit tojfcthcp on Long IslnntI, near Xcw York \ 
city, under tlie odd designation of Modern Times. 
This village was founded by a reformer named Pearl, 
and 18 considered as the head-quarters of the Ameri- 
can Comtists ; a body of reformers who have taken I 
up the work in which Owen and Fourier failed. The i 
dwellers in Modern Times come out for every sort of 
new truth. They have put down the past. It is 
hardly u figure of speech to say, that as far as their 
lK>wer can back their will, tliey are ready to repeal all 
laws and to dethrone all gods. They affect the Posi- ^ 
tive Philosophy; and this affectation is the only posi- 
tive thing about them. The ten commandments, the 
apostles* creed, the canons and decrees, the articles 
of faith, have all been abolished, as rags and shreds < 
of superstition, in Modern Times. No man has a' 
right to intrude into his neighbor's house; for in this/ 
home of progress! ve__8pirits, conduct is held to havoj 
the same rights us opinion. What have you to do/ 
with me and mine? Inside my own door, I am lord\ 
and king. What if I tsikc a dozen wives? IIow^ 
these ladies choose to live, is for themselves, and not 
for you, to say. What business have you to take of- 
fence, because they do not live according to your law ? 
In Modern Times, such questions meet with a soft 
reply. A woman who is fair, a man who is discreet, 
lias nothing to fear from the moral and religious pas- 
sions of his fellow-settlers. *^ No questions asked " isN 
the motto of Modern Times. . ' 




AFTER thcHO scIiooIb of scientific reform had kept 
tlic 8ta<ce of public attention for ninny years, iii- 
niHtinc^ witli noise and pnunise tni Having society 
wliether it wtiuM or no, their chiini to be the true 
rcji^eneratorH of their kind was suddenly invaded by a 
new class of zeaU>ts, who announced tlieniBcIves as a . 
native school of thinkers, not the spawn of French 
and Scottish brains. These new-comers were the 
Spiritualists, who derived their gospel from a cobbler 
of Poughke^^pHkya seer of genuine native grit 

Andrew Jackson Davis, this Poughkeepsio era As- ; 
man, wrote a rhapsody in four stout volumes, which 
he called The Great Ilarmonia, and which some of his* 
ignorant dupes appear to have thought an original 
work. It was a mere parody of Swedenborg's mystical ' 
dreams about the true heaven and the true earth; and' 
though it has taken the minds of many persons who 
were bent on having a n«itive creed, it must be rejected 
by a critic from the list of primary and seminal books. 
Swedenborg's Arcana Ca*lestia, not Davis's Great I 
Ilarmonia, is the true source of American Spiritual-/ 
ism. The latter work may have had its part in nurs-/ 
ing the fantasies of the Spirit-circles; ft>r, while the 
VSwedish seer must be credited with much of what is/ 
noble and poetic in those circles, the Poughkeepsio/ 
cobbler may be credited with nearly all that is most/ 
grotesque and most profane. 


Tlic young droanicra who went out from Boston to 
picnic on Bniok Fann, hoping to catch 8(»n)C glinipRCS 
of tlic higher life, and prove that daily dnty could be 
treated as a fine art, were the first to make known in 
America how many lodcA of gold lay hid in the illuH- 
trions Swede's neglected works. Of course the writings, 
of Swedenhorg were already known to a few obscure 
zealots in Boston and New York; New Jerusalem^ 
Churches having been founded long ago in these cities, 
and in some other places; but the disciples who had 
been found by the noble Swede in the United States 
were few in number and poor in gifts. No man of 
mark had joined them. Their priests were unlettered, 
their chapels obscure, their journals without talent and 
without sale. The name of Swedenborg was hardly 
so much a power in the country as that of Zinzendorf 
or that of Mack. But liipjey and the little band of 
poets and scholars who w*ent out into the desert of 
Brook Fanu, intnuluced him to the intellectual world. 
In truth, the Swedish seer was necessary to these 
idealists. Fourier, a man without love and without a 
future, was too hard and cold a reformer to till their 
hearts. As a ruler in the kitchen and on the farm 
they thought him excellent; but a good kitchen and 
a fat farm were not to be all in all w itli these high 
l>oetic natures. They wanted a new social order, buti 
they could not receive asocial order absolutely divorced 
like that of Fourier from every connection w*ith a 
jKorliLto come. 

They found in -S^vede nborg much that suited their 
frame of mind. The Swede presented many sides to 
a reader. To the godly, he offered himself as a teacher ; 
of religion ; to the student, as a scientific thinker; to ) 
the mystic, as a visionary; to the sceptic, as a critic. ; 
Unitarians liked him because be hinted that the Father ^ 


aiul the Son aro one. Infi«lol>* praiseil him for reject-! 
ing nearly half tlie Bihie, an«l especially the writinpi; 
of St Paul. To the idealists of lirook Fann he ai*-] 
peareil as a great intelligence, which eouhl reconcile; 
a plialanx with tlie liiglier powern. In the combi- 
nation of Fourier and Swcdenhorg they fancied they 
could 8ec the germs of a new order of things, fruitful 
of good, alike to the hody and the soul. Hence 
they made mucli of Swcdenhorg in their writings. 
They took from him their motto; they quote<l liis 
dreams; they admired his science; they lauded his 
imagination ; nay, some of the nu»re eminent men 
among tliem descrihed him as hcing at once a greut 
social reformer and a great religious seer. Ripley 
called liis viriions sublime; Channing coupled him 
with Fourier as a teacher of unity; Dwiglit called 
him the Great Poet and High IViest. 

rThe Kev. Henry James, a Brook Farm entlnisiai^t, V 
wTio scandalized society hy making a public confession * 
of his call to the New Jerusalem, tilled numy pages of 
The Harbinger with proofs that there is so little dif- 
ference between Fourier and Swcdenhorg in practice, 
that a convert of one reformer may admit the other 
reformer's claims; since Fouricr*s Passional series (a 
pretty French name for Free Love) might be readily 
made to run alongside of Swcdeidiorg's toleration of 
concubines. In fact, this reverend author, a man of 
very high gifts in scholarship and ehxpienco, declared 
himself, on spiritual grounds, in favor of a system of 
divorce, which is hardly to be distinguished from 
divorce at will.^ 

A still more eminent convert to Swedenborg*8 gos- ^ 
pel was George Bush, Professor of Hebrew and Ori- ! 
ental Literature; a man who had received his training i 
at Dartmouth and Princeton, where he was ordained 


as a minister in tlio Prcpbytcrian Clmrcb. Bnsh's 
writingH on tlic Old Tofttaincnt pvc liiiu a liigli place 
among Biblical Hcholara. When he became a convert 
to tbe Swe^lieb gospel, tbe wbole world of New York 
ran after liim; and many of tbe projdietH of failing causes 
(siicb as tbe Kev. James Boyle and tbe Kev. Cbarles 
Weld), came about bim, in tbe bope of catcbing some 
sparks from tbis new celestial torcli. liipley and bis 
friends bad given tbe Swcdisb dreamer prestige, Bush 
and bis followers gave liim popularity. Two years 
after tbe date of l^usb's cc»nversion, Swcdenborg bad 
become a name c»f power in tbe scbools of Boston and 
New York. 

It must be noted witb care bow little tbe new Jeru- ! 
salcm cburclies bad to do witb tbis starting of tbeir 
|»ropbet as a candidate for inspired bonors in tlie 
IT nitcd States. Tliose oM and liumble bodies were as 
n<»tbing in tbe cause. Busli, as a man of learning, 
was disliked and feared by tbe illiterate i>riests ; and 
be repaid tbeir bate witb open scorn and eloquent 
c«>ntempt. Wlien crowds of crc<lulous and mystical 
<lisciples gathered round bis pulpit, tbey came about 
Iiim, not from tbose tiny cbapels wbicb tbe sect bad 
built in nameless streets, not from tlie colleges and 
scbools of theology, so mucb as from tbe centres of 
Xatunilistic Socialism. Most of bis converts were\ 
followers of Owen and Fourier, who bad failed in the ) 
Hcarcb for a better life at New Harmony and Redf 
Bank. Tbe hearts of these men were ripe in supersti- 
tion. Fourierites, who had refused to give tbe Father 
a place in His own world, listened with eager trouble 
to any poor trickster w*bo professed to communicate 
with tbe unseen w*orld. Owenites, who banished from 
tbeir model societies tbe very names of angel and 
spirit, received into New Harmony every wandering 



bioIogUt niul iiiC9nieri8t who (*oul(I lirin^ tliom digits , 
of tlic existence of Satanic life. J>r. niichaiiaii, one of > 
thortc vagmnt ojiorators, bail a [^roat siici«es.s under the 
wing of Dale Owen, wlio indorned fi>r the Anioricmn 
public hin gleight-of-hand. A clairvoyant, an animal 
niagnctizer, an electro-biologist, had a good time, 
generally, at Kcd Bank. 

Now Professor Bush caught u]» in hirt nets these rent- 
less souls, who wanted a new gospel without knowing 
where it could l)C found. Bush had such a gos^icl 
ready in his hand ; and, being a master of the two 
sacred languages, Hebrew and And»io, and a critical 
writer on the times of Moses and Mohammed, it was 
not for the ignorant multitude to think that such a 
nuni could bo mist^iken in his text. A crowd of 
seekers took him at his word. 

Yet, a live country like America could hardly bo 
expected to receive, on any large scale, an old and 
worn philoso[)hy from a foreign source, until it had 
been stamped with a new and native die. In onlcr 
to gain free entry into her ports, Sweden borgianism 
ha<l to put on the livery of the United States. 

Unlike many per\'erts, Bush was no textual fanatic. 
If he adopted the great Swede, his adoption was that 
of the spirit rather than of the word. The narrow 
bigotries of Salem Chapel, having no place in his 
heart, found no echoes on his tongue. Not content, 
like so many smaller men, to try every truth that 
came in his way by one standard, he never dreamed 
of closing his eyes on surmunding facts, in fear lest 
they should grate on his siicred text. All truths, ho 
said, would be found to go hand in hand ; therefore 
he kept his heart open, like a poet; as keenly alive to 
the voice without as to the tlirob within. 

A strange wonder came upon New York in tlie 


394 SriniWAL W/VKS. 

trickn of Kate and Margaret Fox, wlio i>ut Bnchanan 
uiul the eleetro-l)ioIogi8t« to sikKIoii Hliaine. Mystcri- 
ouA raps and taps, touches and nounds, became the 
fashion. A country in which tlie ohlest houses are 
not a cent u IT ohl would seem to offer a very poor iieUl 
for ghosts ; hut the spirits which liaunt a wigwam and 
an Indian hnlgc may easily find no«iks and crannies in 
Si log house ; and therefore, when the gh<»stly taps and 
thumps wliicli had heen lieard hy Kate and Margaret 
Fox were duly noised ahroad, every old mill and farm 
in the province found itself suddenly troubled by a 
gliost. I^usli seized upon tliis new mar%*el, an<l by Ins 
skill and daring got the spirits, to which the Fox girls 
had given a real habitation on earth, conipletely sub- 
jert to his will. 

The learned Pmfessor, it must be noted, had been 
bing familiar with the story of these ghostly sounds, 
these demon tokens, tliese angelic visits. Swcdenborg 
bad spent his life in company with spirits. Most of 
bis English pupils had been blessed l)y angelic friends. 
In fact, tlie whole round of experiences described by 
sidcpts in the Progressive Scliool of New Y(»rk to-day 
was travelled by the London disciples of the Swede 
from thirty to sixty years ago. These English vision- 
aries were visited by good spirits and bad spirits; by 
Mome who chose tc» rap, by others who preferred to 
write. Samuel Ncdde, minister of Cross Street Chapel, 
describes himself as having heard i*aps in liis room. 
The Rev. John Clowes j»rofessed to write liis sermons 
ns an unconscious agent of the spirits. Busli knew 
these things, and on the strength of this knowledge 
he put forth a claim upon all the ghostly tribe which 
had suddenly leapt into life around liim. 

In 1847 he had published a book, in wliic)i he placed 
tlie phenomena of Mesmer si«le by side with the dis* 



cloAuro8 of S\vctlciil»org; a book whifli 18 the tnio' 
source of all the Hpiritnal rirelcB in the Uiiiteil Stato^: 

**Thc ohjeirt aiiiKMl at," he explaiiiiMl, "is to elevate 
the phenomena of me^nieri^in to a Iii^lier plane than 
that on whieh they had been wont to he e«»nteniplatc4l. 
The fundamental ground a^^^umed i:^, that the nioiit 
important faetn di^elosed in the me^ineric state are of 
u spiritual nature, and can only receive an ade<inatc 
solution hy heinjc viewed in connection with the >«tatc 
of <li8emlK>dicd Hpiritn and the laws of their intercoun«c 
with each other." 

The value of thin volume lay in an appendix, in 
which IVofeMHor Bush intriMluced to the American 
])uhlie a new* and a mitive j>cer, in Andrew* Jackm)u 
])avi?*, then a youn*; fellow of twenty. IJuhIi i»iM)ko 
of l>aviH in the highest terms; pledging his word that 
the young prophet was an honest num, in possi^sion 
of the nohlest spiritual gifts. In a short time Davis 
quitted his patron and sia up for himself as a rival 
pi\)pliet, producing the (treat Harnnuiia and other 
bulky works, the substance of which was taken from 
Swedenhorg. When Bush snw reason to think his 
young friend no better than a rogue, he took up his 
]»anible against him; but the slioenniker of Pougli- 
keepsic beat the Professor of Hebrew and Oriental . 
Literature in New York ; and the high movement in 
favor of a more 8]>i ritual science, which began among 
the poets of lirook Farm, and grew among the Pro- 
fessors of Boston and Xew York, fell away into the 
widely popular, but in no way intellectual societies, 
which find their gospel in the Great irarmonia, tlieir 
leailei*s in Home and C'hase. 

The social doctrine of the (ireat Ilannonia is, even 
more than the corresponding passage in Swedcnborg 
from which it is derived, hostile to inarriugc; and 


nearly all the people who call themselves llarmonial 
rhilosophers are found to be frequently changing the 
partners of their joys and griefs. 



DAVIS, the new Yankee Prophet, was a cross be-, 
tween the hard Naturalism of Owen and Fourier, ' 
and the dreamy Spirituality of Sweden bo rg. In what 
is native — the form and method, not the substance 
of his system — the Poughkeepsic lad was racy of the 
soil and con8onant with his time. On all the largo 
subjects of man's thoughts, — on love and life, on good 
and evil, on body and spirit, on stara and suns, on 
>visdom and waste, on birth and death, on eai*th and 
heaven, — he was little beyond a faint echo of his great 
original. "What was new to him was the heat, the 
petuhince, the ignorance, the irreverence of his books. 
Swedenborg was a religious being, Davis a stranger to 
religious life. Tlie Swede was a reader of the Bible, 
— a respecter of the past. Davis threw away his Bible 
as a GulTs horn-book, and spurned all records of our 
race as so much trash and falsehoou. To the Yankee^ 
Prophet the past was nothing, the present much, and) 
the future more. Last year being dead and gone, his 
hope was in the year about to come. His science was \ 
crude, but his aims were practical. Freedom of the 
spirit meant to him a freedom tiiat could be used. A 
Yankee, he could not s[»end liis life in dreams. If 
spirits camo to him at will, ho would make them 


work: if grace were given to liim, lie would put itont 
for gain. Why was lie n ]iliyKician if not to cure? 
Wliy was ho a |»r(»i»het if not to jiroaeh ? Why wan 
he a searcher of hearts if not to choose Iiis own? 

Davis appears to liave felt no scruple ah«nit \\A\\% 
his supernatural gifts for his [lersonal g*ain ; since he 
ti)ok fees for medical advice; ami helped himself, 
through his angels, to the very first woman whom he 
chanced to like. 

This lady had the misfortune to he married ; hut ! 
what of that poor shre<l of legal dilUculty? In the/ 
Spiritual circles, UearL^jire no m(»rc than acids ami 
alkalies, which draw near to each other by a natural 
la\v; on the princijile which Captain Otto explains To' 
Lotte, — that of tree ai tinities. Davis found in tliin 
married lady his free alliiiTty ;'und, after her death, ho 
found a second affinity of his soul in another nmrricd 
lady, whom he claimed from a surprised and outraged 
husband as his natural mate. This second elect nrn 
away fmm her husband, got oil* to Indiana, headquar- 
ters of the great Spiritual doctrine of Froo Divorce, 
and in that happy laml «>f discontented wives found a 
release from her hateful bonds. 

One of the things which a man in the Spiritual 
circles thinks himself most of all free to do is to fallj 
in love with his neighbor's wife, — if the seeking after 
natural mates can properly be termed falling in love. 

From my bundle of eases, two brief narratives may 
be cited in illustration of the way in which this spirit- 
ual mating comes about: — 

carpenter's confcssio.n. 

'' March ZQih, 18tJ7. 
*' I WAR born in tho State of New York, and moved to 
the West whon I was thirteen years old. Our family 

398 sriniTirMs wjvks. 

uelllfd in Wiwoiisln, mid my folkn hecainc intimately ac- 
quainted with a revivalist prcaelier named Berner, whoso 
leaehinf^H atleelerl me pome. Jle was* eonnected in his 
lahorH with Charleji Do (JrotT, a Spirilualiht from New 
York. Al\erward« I became a Sweden horgian, and con- 
tinued in that liolief for several yearn. 

"In the spring of 1803, I moved with my family to 
Minnesota, and formed the acquaintance of Dr. Swain and 
his wife. She had been a Swedenhorgian, and was better 
^•ersetl in the doctrines of that sect than I. She was now 
u Spiritualist of tho school headed by An<lrew Jackson 
l>avis. She lent me books on the llarmonial Philosophy 
written by Davis, and speedily indoctrinated me into tho 
mysteries of Spiritualism. She was a medium possessed 
of j>sychometrical powei*s, and under her teachings 1 soon 
learned that it is wrong for men and women who are not 
adapted to each other to live together. 1 had been mar- 
ried seven years, and led a life of domestic hap]>iness, 
although my wife never sympathi;sed with my religious 
views. Under the teachings of tho llarmonial Philos(q)by, 
I was led to reflect a great deal, and visited Mrs. Swain 
frequently to converse on topics that interested njc. My 
wife became suspicious, and charged me with an improper 
intimacy with Mrs. Swain. This was not the case ; but as 
time wore on, I gradually experienced a diminution of 
af!*ection for my wife, and became more attached towanis 
Mrs. Swain. Mrs. Swain said that there was no compati- 
bility between Dr. Swain and herself, and that sho had 
frequently thought of leaving him. 

" The llarmonial lMiiI«)st>|diy teaches in effect, that per- 
sons who are not 'atlinitized* are committing adultery in 
living as man and wife. Davis, however, teaches that by 
pro|>er means, in many cases an *aninity' can be brought 
about, but the general tendency of Spiritualism is to scjm- 
rate those who arc not congenial. 

••During a year and a half I became VMry impressible; 
in fact a medium ; the invisible guides impressed mo with 
Dittoy ideas of a religious nature, nornc of which tended to 

y.Y rut: virclks. 39? 

conviiieo me of llio reality of the .spiritual worl«l. Among 
oilier tiling, I became slron«;ly impreMHe«i willi ilie «;n>w- 
ini; incompatibility between myselt'and my wife; and, on 
tlie oilier handf with the growin<x atliiiity between Mnu 
Swain ami mvKell*. Tlieno imprestiions 1 communicatiHl 
from time t(» time to Mrn. Swain, ami sbo in turn told nie 
of Himilar impivssions which hIio ]ia<l in reference to me. . 

My wife had ceased her Huspicionn I h*arned from 

Mrs. Swain that many SpiritnulistM of note had iIiiih noiiglit 
out their allinities, and had abandoned the e<Mineclioii!i 
which were inharmoniouH. My coiii^c in the mutter wa8\ 
delernnned by what 1 then conceived to bo reli^jioiw duly.' 
Mrn. Swain t<dd mo of the doings of John M. S|>ear, witli 
whom she wan acquainted. He divorcetl his firHt wife on 
nccoiint of incompatibility, and lived with Mi»*8 (lam 
Hinckley with whom he had diKCOveroil an nflinity. lio 
went t<i Kn^land with her. 

*^ After I had been acquainted with Dr. Swain and his 
wife for two yearn, 1 wan called by buKine88 eonnectionii 
to St. Paul, in Minnesota, where I formed tho accpiaintanco 
of several mediums; ono was living with her aninity, 
another was mis-matched and was in Meareli of her aflinity. 
There were but two or three families of Sjiiritualists i» V 
St. Paul who were not mis-mated. Nine-tenths of all tlio /' 
mediums I ever knew were in this iniHettle<l state, either! 
divorced or living with an aftinity, or in search of one. i 
Tho majority of Spiritualists teach Swedcnborg*8 doctrine . 
of o;<r a ffinity^ a ppointed by Providence for all eternity, \ 
although they do not blamo people for consorting when ; 
there is an attraction ; else, how is tho affinity to be found? 
Another class, of whom Warren Chacc is tho most notod 
example, travelled from placo to place, finding a groat 
many affinities ovory where. 

" Charles C. Carpenter." 



*• Clnrlnml, March 2bth, 1867. 

" Fifteen yean* Binco, while i\ Uiiivcrpnlist preacher, I 
became a Spiritualist; anil npeakin^ of myself as an ex- 
ample, I here state that Spiritualism un<lormined and ^ 
destroyed my respect for marria«^e. It led me to look on 
that institution in the light of a doctrine of aflinity, and to ; 
re^^ard it as a union or arran«^ement which the parties to 
it were at liherty to make or remake to suit th_eir own 
n(»tions of interest and convenience; in short,^ throu<^h 
Spiritualism, as presented to m}* mind, marriage U)st en- 
tirely its institutional and autlutritative character, and 
there was suhstituted for it an afllnital relation, to exist or 
he <iissolved at the pleasure of the parties. This was tho 
theoretical view^ In process of time, I l)eean»o what is 
called a Free Cover — meaning hy that simply one who' 
holds that the individual has the right to make and remake 
his or her connubial relations without consulting any 
authority, religious or legal. This always seemed to me, 
and dofs now seem to me, to be the legitimate result of ! 
the doctrine of individual sovereignty whieh S|)ixitiuilism ' 
unquestionably teaches. 

•* My acquaintance with Spiritualists was quite extensive 
until within five or six years past, and among those with 
whom I have been acquainted the tendency of thought in 
regard to marriage has been of tho same caste. I am also 
acquainted with most of the Free Lovers who have at one 
time or another congregated at Berlin Heights in this 
State, and also with many others who sympathized with 
that movement scattered liere and there throughout the 
West. And though it cannot be said with truth that all < 
Spiritualists are Free Lovers, yet it may be said that all 
Free Lovers, with rare exceptions, are Spiritualists. There 
can be no doubt in the mind of any one who has been be- 
hind tho scenes, that among tho adherents of Spiritualism \ 
there arc many Free Lovers, practically, who would not ^ 

JX THE CinCLKS. 401 

like to be known an«l rcckonotl um hucIi. Indooil, of laU!| 
yearn, Spirit uiiliHtn have been neokin^ lo remove fn»ra 
their nyi^leiu the htignia of teaching free lovo; ami yet it 
in notoriouH. at least amon^ themHelve», that Hoine of thosw 
who arc loiulent in denouneing that <l«>ctrine are praetii^ing 
"what they profenii to repudiate. As I have defined froo 
love, above, there is an abundance of Free Lovers amongst 

*^ Among tho lecturers and leadern in the Spirituali8tio 
movement with whom I have been ac<|uainted, I think 
the greater number have either been divorced legally, or 
have found themselvcH unaflinilixed, — in such cases necm- 
ing to feel themselves at liberty to go outside of their 
matrimonial relations f(»r the lovo they conld not find 
therein. 1 could give many names, but prefer not to do 
Bo, because the facts in my knowledge have in most in- 
stanees been made to mo in a conlidential mannor; sol 
content myself with N[K*aking of the matter in this general 
way. J. W. TowLER." 

Thus, by precept and by example, the Yankee 
l^rophet hiis taught liis congregation of ^Spiritualists 
and Harmonists — a congregsition wliicli Judge Ed- 
monds puts at the figure of four millions — what he 
means by liberty of the spirit. The priictlcal issue of 
Ills teaching is expressed in the course idiom of New 
York : — 

** Every man lias a right to do what he damned 
ideoses ! '* 

34* 2A 





WHAT 18 tlio meaning of this singular develop- 
ment of religious life in Germany, in England, 
in the United States? is a question which will present 
itrtolf to every mind. I do not presume to answer it. 
We are only on the threshold of a great study; and a 
thousand facts may need to be considered in the final 
verdict which are not vet within our ken. But on 
looking hack into that fascinating branch of the his- 
tory of our Christian society, which concerns itselt 
with the inner circle of man's passions, we iind some 
liints which may be useful when we attempt to pene- 
tmte the meaning of what appears to some a very 
sudden and alarming growth of noxious things. 

From the Apostles' day downward, the main ques- 
tion in ever}' church, so far as the church has dealt 
with the laws of our family and social life, has been 
l»ut in this wise : — What <?an be done with that always 
tierce and sometimes lawless yearning of the heart 
called love? 

Man would be an easy thing to govern, if he had 
no desires of the blood to disturb his pulse. Passion 
makes us frail, even while it makrs us strong. The 
perfect being, conceived in the brain of Plato, ha<l no 

In the East and in the West, in the first century and 
in the nineteenth century, at Jerusalem as at Antioeh, 
in Uomo as in Geneva, the conservative churches have 


ibiiiMl tliomselves in front of thwtlisturbiiig force. In 
all a^os tboy have been ronipelliMl to 8tn<ly tlie mean* 
of flanking an objiM't, whioli tlu'V ooultl not miniKmnt, 
and wliirh Kconif* to liave boon tliri)\vn by nature into 
tboir path. Most of all, ba^ tliin been the in 
AWj*tern Kurope, where a ppeoial rea<lin<^of thewiorcJ 
text has been eonibincd with Ronic fni<]fnient8 of a 
Pai^an erecd. '* Ah," the priests liuvo often cried in 
their dit^nuiy, ^' if man had not been created male and 

On nearly all sides, the existence of a celestial order, 
under which there will lie no such rite as m.arriagc, 
has been assumed as one of those p<»iiits about which 
there e(»uld be no dispute. That celestial order is said 
to be the hi(;hest state in w*hieh a created beins: can 
dwell. A true church, it is supposed, must strive to 
rejiroduce that lieavenly order here below. If wo 
would draw nitrh unto Him, wo must do so on the 
lines of approach which He has laid down. Do we 
not daily ask, as our first boon, from the Father, that 
His will nniy be done on earth even as it is done in 
heaven ? What is that will, and how is it done in 
heaven ? 

Here lies the germ of nearly all our trouble with 
the higher and nobler longings of the soul. What is 
it that the Father asks from His sons ? Is it His will 
that the household passions shall be conquered, that 
no more young men shall be married, that no more 
children shall be born? Some teachers hold so; say- i 
ing that the word of God is clear and strong in favor 1 
of a celibate, unproductive life. Others, again, per- 
ceive a different meaning in the sacred text. Before 
all, and after all, it is for us a question of what is 
meant — a point on which the most leaniod doctors 
differ, since nature and inspinition seem to be hero at 


All rcaRoiicra admit tliat the hijirlier aiul the lower 
worlds desirrihcd in the Bible, are not the same in 
kind; and thjit the beings who pcojde them can hardly 
live by a common rule. In one there is no change, in 
the other there is no rest. Heaven feels no waste; 
her angels sing to-day as they sang in the dawn of 
time ; and no need exists in their blessed state for 
renewing: a life which suffers no decline in a million 
years. Karth, on its side, knows no pause ; her chil- 
dren perish, coming and going like the flowers, so 
that her higher, equally with her lower forms of life, 
can only be prcscr%cd from failure by a delicate play 
of her repHMlucing powers. When you have waste, it 
would seem that you must have growth. When things 
grow ohl, they niust be redeemed by things which are 
new. Age implies youth, and death needs birth. 

Where, then, lies the analogy between that higher 
sphere and this nether orb? How can the things of 
earth be likened to the things of heaven ? Nothing is 
8urer than that a close imitation of what is called 
4*elestial order, would, in a hundred years, restore this 
globe to the dominion of savage beasts. 

Is that an end to be desired by godly men in the 
interest of a nobler law and a better life ? Some 
teachers have not shrunk from saying so; bold logi- 
cians, who would rather kill the world than deny a 
text; but the masses of men who are neither saints 
nor critics, could never be seduced by eloquent speech 
into adopting that loveless and joyless theory of a per- 
fect church. Love of woman and pride of otlspring 
are too strongly rooted in the hearts of men for either 
priest or priestess to pluck them out ; except in some 
few chosen cases, where other, and not more saintly 
passions have been planted in the stead of this love 
and pride. 


Tho diiirrli of Southern Europe iiishIo liorttcif the 
champion of thi^ anti-iH>cinl spirit. Slie adopted 
slowly, but nhc heltl tenacioUHly, the <l<»/^na thut a ; 
colihate life is norensary to the ili8c*har&ce of ministerial 
functions. She gnitlually came to look on woman a«\ 
a 8nare, on love as a 8in. Siie forbade her priestu to ; 
enter on the dutios of liusbands and fatliers. She { 
divided the world into two great orders — tlic «lco^ i 
dotal and the ^ecidar; and she made a rule that no 
mendior of the saerrd ehitis should haive anytliin;; to i 
do with woman in the way of love. Believing in a 
heaven of monks and nuns, she strove to introduce on 
earth a kingdom of monks ami nuns. But in striving 
at\er this innige of celestial oixler she ran herself ui>ou 
a thousand rocks. Even in days when she secmcil to 
be working her will on earth, she found the trials to 
whirh she exposed herself from llie revolt of human 
passion fatal to her peace, and all but fat^d to her 
power; for a Church depending on logic and authority 
for its very existence had to [latronize a dogma which 
slie could not wholly det*end, a practice which slio 
could not always enforce. 

The rirst stage of Essen ic Christianity, with its love- 
feasts and its common stores, had hardly yet passed 
into oblivion, before the Western Church began to 
trille with the tirst principles of domestic order, by 
exalting tlie ascetic habits of a monk into proofs of a 
higher calling and a nobler virtue than belonged to 
the very best of married men. Whence camo this 
anti-sochU spirit, this war against wonian and against 
love ? Not fmm tho Teacher of Galileo. Not from 
lli^ disciples. Not from the earliest Fathers. One 
text^ and only one, is drawn from tho New Testament 
in favor of separating the clergy from the laity- 
saints by oifice from sinners by choice ; and tliat one 


text, Bonic folks assert, is one that tells for the opposite 
side. St. Paul declared that a l>islH»p should be the 
hushaud of one wife, What Taul meant by these 
words has been much disputed ; one obvious render- 
ing is, that Paul addressed his caution to tlte church, 
not against the right of ntarriage, but against the 
wrong of polygamy; which was tlien, as it Imd been 
in oldcn time, a liabit with liis countrymen, the Jews. 
It is certain that 8t. Paul desired to liave in his model 
bishop a man who was a householder, a husband, and 
u father. ^^A bisliop must be blameless, tlie husband 
of one wife • . . • one tliat ruletli well his own house, 
having his children in subjection with all gnivity. 
For if a man know not how to rule his own house, 
how shall he take care of the Church of Ood?" Such 
'a text lends no support to the Western theory of a 
celilmte and sejmrate priesthood; since it is clearly 
Htated that the bishop mu^t be a householder, like 
other men ; a husband, like other men; a father, like 
other men. His care in <c<^vcrnin<c his house is made 
the measure of his right to govern in the church. 
Household virtues and clerical virtuos are recognized 
OS the same in kind. The Apostolic Constitutions cite 
these words of I'aul in sut;h a way as to imply that, in 
the third century, a single man could not be raised to 
the sacred oiKce. I'auPs rule appears to bo, that a 
bishop miut be the husband of one wife. 

AVhence, then, did the notion of a world without 
woman and without love descend into the Church? 

In nearly all those Eastern creeds against which the 
new dis{iensation of our Lord made war, there had 
been more or less of the spirit of renunciation and 
asceticism. The Chaldean priests forbade their pupils 
to eat flesh, to drink wine, and to marry wives. The 
Indian Brahman, ailer seeing his gnindson born, was 


bound to olw*orve tlio strictont rule: to fast ninoh, to 
pray often; to put away liis HpouHo; to n*iiiiquii4h all 
the plout$ure8 ol* 8cnrte. An K.ssonic: Jew eonsidcaHl 
pa88ion a8 a 8nare, and in the liif^her gRide8oriiU0i'ct! 
lie absolutely forbade hi8 8eliolar to indul*;^ in the 
weakness of wetbled lovo. Tbc prie8t8 of Isis were 
condemned to a single wife, though the Kgy|Ui»ii 
custom, like the Hebrew custom, allowed laymen to 
take as many iiartners as they could get. Among the 
followers of (lotama Ihnldha, the priests were ImmuhI 
by vows of ehasiity, the breach of which vowa wjw 
punished by degnidation from the sacred olHce. The 
Greeks and Konnins had their vestals, an<l the priests 
of Khea had to (»ffer a peculiar saicriticc before her 

All such Pagan rites and rules would seem to have 
been foreign, if not hostile, to the new dispensation; 
for the earlier reconls of the Church contain ample 
proofs that I'or many genenitions, the clergy of nil 
ranks were free to marry, j^ist as their secular brethren , 
were free. That i»roof is sown upon the reconl ; not 
in one place only; but here and there, by chance and 
by the way; not as evi<lence of a fact, which it had 
m»t entered into any one's heart to deny; but for sonic 
secondary purpose which the writer had in view. 
This kind of evidence, as every lawyer knows, is of 
the very best. Polycarp tells a story of V'alens, a 
priest who got into trouble on account of bis wife. 
Iremeus menti<»ns a deacon who received Marcus the 
magician into his house, and Wivs punished for bis dis- 
obedience to onlers by the seduction of his beautiful 
wife. Tertulliairs letter to his wife on the duty of 
living in a holy state is well known, and no one thnibts 
th;)it when that letter was indited Tertullian was u 
i^rieat. Ignatius speaks of the many blesaetl suintii 

108 sriniTrAL wives. 

wlio bail entered into marriage bonds; never donbting 
that a Haint wa.s equally a saint whether lie led a mar- 
ried or a single lite. Cyprian gives an aeetnint of 
Novatus, a priest who kieked his wife in a fit of pas- 
sion, and was tried for the murder of his unborn ehild. 

To pass from examples to tlje rules which govern 
them, we may glanee at the Apostolic Constitutions; 
records of the third century, which contain full par- 
ticulars as to the way in which the clergy lived. Not 
one wonl is said in these primitive articles of the < 
Church as to the priest being a celibate num. A , 
bishop was to be the husband of one wife; if that wife / 
died he was not to marry again ; and this rule applied, i 
not only to a bishop, but to a deacon and a priest. "^ 
The article seems so have been directed against that ; 
vice of all Jewish societies, polygamy ; a vice prevail- j 
ing in Jerusalem, Antioch, and Alexandria, the three 
chief centres of Jewish and Christian life. For, it is 
expressly stated in these early Constitutions, that a 
bishop, priest, or deacon, b4}ing a nnirried man at the 
time of his ordination, is to be content witli his ]iart- 
ner, and not to seek out for himself any other wives. 
If he be single, he is to remain so. Men who filled 
the lower grades of the clerical ollice, — the sub-dea- 
con, the reader, the singer, and the door-keeper, — 
were commanded to marry no more than one woman ; 
proof that the prohibitions were directed against the 
])revailing Jewish ermr of polygamy, not against the 
primary law of family life. 

In the Apostolic Canons, which present the Church 
rules of a later age, perhaps of the fifth century after 
Christ, we find that some changes have crept in, 
though the spirit of the church is still the same. All 
classes of priests may be married men, with homes, 
but DOt harems, like those unconverted Jews who 


Rdui'lHlixccl even the Pagan citizcim of Home. 
nijIiiH (if n fniiiiiijj chaiijje nrc fomii]. It i« no 
n<?u<It'iil to bfi-oiiio II liiisliiitiil mill futlicr licfort; 
to liouomu ti liUIioji. A /niiili' mini iii;i_v n»pirc 
liiglu-rtt »fKi'i-!< in ll<c diunli, iui<l tlic l':u-t oflii.* 
hIhiio it) tlK" woplit in a. i>iniit, jicrliiii'K, in Iuh 
Siiij^oiM, rciuicpx, (ioop-kcL'iicpn. unii tlio liki\ nr 
iiKiHt fi'ci'ly cliiint-ii from iimoiif; fiillipm of tin 
nml if «iic'li oflicor clmiiPi? U> bo Biii;;lo iit the ti 
tlicir flwtimi, tl"'_T rocoivo liintM to fi»mj>ly wi 
KiK'iul rule. Not xo, llic ]ii;;)ior niiiki'. A niii 
JH Hiiiglc wln-n nniaiucil, is to rcnmin ho ; if m. 
ho in ti> n-tiiiii )ii» wilV'. Tlic Clmroli liaa co; 
rcBist nil cliaii}^ of comlitioit m. a more cxoitcm 
tlio Hpirilft uiiliivoniltlo to llio cliimcex of a ^d 
A wciliicil [iricijt )A cxjircuMly forbidduii to ]>iit 
liis itpouflc. "A bixbop or u iiriest," nayn tlio 
Cunou, " may iii no wise Bcpamtc from liia wifo 
tho jirvtcxt of rclif^ioii ; if lio [iiita licr away, li< 
be cxconmimiiL-ntciI; uiid if lie [icrxints, lie »\ 

The social principle and boinwhold practice 
in tlit'HO ApOflt'itiu Cmions have always been 
by tht! primitire Oriental Cliurch. 


410 SPiniWAL WIVE.S. 



FROM whatever Bourcc it may have been derived, 
the anti-social principle, wliicli r(\jj^nrd8 wonnin a« 
n Hnare, and repel?* love as a sin, was adopted in Konie. 
It wan not a /Lcrowtli of tlie soil ; not a elioiee of lier 
own; since it wonid seem to luive I>een against lier 
genins, as it certainly was against her laws. It came 
npon lier from without ; fri>m the country whicli lias 
supplied her in every age with spiritual weapons and 
H)»iritual ideas; (VonijSjiain. 

8pain is a bastard daughter of the East. The blood 
of Tyre and of Jerusalem, no less than that of Rome 
and iSynicuite, is in her veins ; the Phcenieian and the 
Egyptian, like the Roman and the (Jreok, having left 
llieir arts, their inspirations, and their vices in her soil. 
Isis, Diana, and Ashtaroth, have each a home in that 
Hunny clime; not only in the streets of Cadiz, where 
the names are still Plnvnician : not oidv in the con- 
v*»nts of Saguntum, where the men still drone a song 
once chanted by the Vestals ; not only in the alleys of 
<^ranada, where the gipsy dancers imitate, and per- 
haps excel, the lascivious grace of Tautah ; but in 
every city of the south and east; under every vine, 
and palm, and i)omegranate ; in the hearts of women, 
in the fancies of artists, in the reveries of monks and 
priests. Allied in blood and genius to the mystic 
East^ Spain has in every age been the seed-place of 
religions passions and religious creeds. To her, the 

irjA' OF CREKDS, 411 

Latin rliurcli owqa nearly nil that marks lior faitli ami 
discipline as tliin«j« distinct troni tlio»*o of the Ai>o«- 
tolic a«re. Fn)ni her tortile soil, came llio rule of Celi- 
bacy, tlie pructiec of Auricular Confension, the <lo;^ia 
of the Immaculate Conception; an well as the Mendi- 
cant Onlers, the InquiHition, and the OnliT of Jesu*. 
iSplendid as her Bcrvices liave often hcon to the 
Church, it i8 douhtful whether Rome has not 8Utiere<l 
more from the friendship of Spain than from the 
enmity of all her Teutonic foes. Always feared, niul 
sometimes haffled, hy the Holy Chair, Spain has 
known how to hide her time, to wear out her adver- 
saries, to seize her occasions, and at length to win her 
j»oint. Her last, hut not her greatest 8tn>kc, has been 
to force on the reluctJint chun»h, after a fight extend- 
ing over many centuries, some jmrt of her ohi wor- 
ship of Ashtaroth ; the peculiarities of whicli she Ium 
liardly veiled under a younger an<l sotler Syrian name. 

Spain dnnv the tirst black line through the (chris- 
tian household ; putting the clerk on one Hide, the 
laie on another side; dividing men who had hereto- 
fore been brothers; and raising that which had been 
a 8im))le calling to the level of a caste. She begim 
this work of isolation at Klvira, in the year 305, by 
declaring that no priest should he allowed to Ker\'o the 
altar until he had put away his wife! 

These words fell on the Church like flashes from 
the sky. Most of the clergy were at that time mar- 
ried men. The love of husband and wife was held to 
be a good and holy thing; and more than half the 
bishops had entered into the matrimonial state. By 
the canons whieh then ruled the Church universul, a 
priest was steridy forbidden to put away his hjk>Q80 
under any pretext of religious scruple; and one who 
persisted in his unsoeiul aet was to be suspendctl and 


dcpriveil. Of course, in 8o large a hoily as the Chris- 
tian claircli, Home diU'eronce of opinion nn<^lit be 
found. Here a teacher exalted matrimony at the cost 
of celibacy; there a second teacher exalted celibacy 
at the expense of nuitrimony ; but no national Church 
)iad yet proclaimed that the condition of a husband 
was a bar to the exercise of sacred functions. The prin- 
<'iplc of family life was thought to bo divine. To doubt 
the sanctity of htuiest love, as it exists between man 
and woman, was in some sort to shmder the goo<lness of 
Heaven and the perfection of its work. No paltering 
with this sacred element was suffered. A priest who 
made a pretence of abstaining from meat, from wine, 
and from love, as from things unlawful and unclean, 
was to be promptly denounced and exconununicated 
by his church. Thus the Spanish rule, proposed at 
Elvira, was, in fonu and spirit, u declaration of >var 
against the whole episcopate and priesthood. 

Nor was this rule the whole. Ostius, of Cordova, 
procured a decree from the Council, to the eflect that 
no clerk should have a woman residing beneatli his 
roof, unless she were either his sister or his daughter, 
and not even then until such woman had taken upon 
herself a vow of virginity for life. This clause ap- 
l>cared to be derived from the religion of Diana 
rather than from that of Christ. In the great temple 
of Saguntum, the priests of Diana were bound to 
t;ike the oaths of chastity ; but among the folloxyers 
of St. Peter, a married saint, such vows as had been 
sworn by these Pagan priests appeared to be anything 
but of God. 

So far as they came into force, these articles of El- 
vira put an end to the old love-feasts, in which the 
Acxes had always joined, and brought into disrepute 
the whole order of ministerial women. Up to that 


ir-lA* OF CREEDS. ' 411 

day, llio preacher iiad been nicled in Iu.h work niiil 
conit'orted in hin lionie, not only hy \\\a wife, the 
mother of hi^ ehililren, hut by many Marthas ami 
Maryfl whom he found livint^ in the Uothanyn to which 
lie carried the torch of gospel truth. Now, he wum to 
have hia lite apart. A wall of Hcpanition was to di- 
vide the layman frcmi the clerk. A priest wa« to have 
bin compensation, even as the vestal of a pagan city 
had her compensation, in pomp, in <lignity, in power; 
but, like that vestal, he was to flee fmm love as hirdu 
fn)m a fowler's snare. The Christian family was to 
be divitlod, like the woi*shippcrs of Vesta and Diana, 
into a sacred caste and a pixdane caste, the celihate 
priests constituting an upper onlor, the married laity 
a lower onler; the servants <if Goil being protected 
from the thrall of women as from a trial and tempta- 
tion beyond the strength of onlimiry men to resint 
In fact, an absolute He)mration from the companion- 
ship of women, wjia to be taken in future as the sign 
of a holy life. 

8imple priests in Gaul and Italy heard with wonder 
and laughter of such decrees being passed. Fllvini 
was a local council, the arli^le^ of which had no au- 
thority out of Spain ; yet men of serious minds, who 
prayed to have peace and unity in the chuivli, would 
see dark cause for apprehension in the rise of such a 
spirit. Ashtaroth was the darling goddess of the 
south of Spain; not many years had passed since 
Santa Kutina and Santa Justina, saints so ghiriously 
pictured by Murillo, had been torn into shreds by a 
Seville mob, for daring to insult their idol in the 
street Who could say what was to come ? In her 
Carthaginian form of Salambo, this popular goddess, 
the queen of heaven, the lady of the cresee!it moon, 
though called the patroness of chastity, was wo^ 


shipped witli licentious rite8, not in Seville and Cadiz 
only, but in every province of southern Spain. Her 
priests were eunuchs, yet they were not eliaste. Augus- 
tine, who saw these priests in Cartilage, told the Church 
that though they were celibate men, they passed their 
lives in practising the grossest forms of vice. 

From Klvira, this Phccnician dogma of a celibate 
l»riesthood passed into Gaul, from Gaul into Italy, 
from Italy into Helvetia; meeting in every place with 
the same resistance ; sanctioned by oiie bishop, con- 
demned by another; here gaining ground, there losing 
it; in one reign denounced from the Papal chair, in 
the next reign supported by the same; gradually root- 
ing itself in the soil ; until the conversion of the Gothic 
races brought a nobler genius and a new vitality into 
the Church of Europe. 

From the date of the Gothic conversion to that of the 
Gothic reformation — a period, speaking roughly, of a 
thousand years — the warfare against a celibate clergy 
was conducted mainly by the North against the South 
— mainly, not wholly. Thousands of priests in the 
North adopted the Spanish theory; thousands of priests 
in the South resisted it. Still the battle was mainly 
fought between the northern and the southern bnmches 
of the great Christian flock. Gaul and Italy, though 
the}* were made the battle-tields of contending cohorts, 
counted for little in the fniy. 

This tight between the PhcDuician spirit and the 
Grothic spirit was long and tierce ; lasting for a thousand 
years, and only ending when the Church was rent in 
twain. It was a tight in which woman — her charac- 
ter, her purity, her equality — was the prize. 

Is the feminine part of human nature so degraded 
and degrading that a man who loves the society of a wife 
is thereby unfit to approach the altar of God ? That, 
uuder all disguises, was the actiud issue of the fray. 

WAii OF CREKDS. 415 

It ift a pastime for pliiloiiopliieal obBcrvcra to note 
tlic BliifiH into wliii'Ii the advcriiiirics in this eansc nro 
often <lrivcn. Spain liad to wiy her worst of woman,' 
and bIic said it with her best malice, 80 that hatera of 
the Bex will find in the books of her old divines a per- 
fect armory of slander. In their pages a girl was 
represented as a scrjient^ in which there was a lurking 
demon. At her hest she was only a fury and a cheat. 
All the worst things in earth and heaven were feminine; 
all that were cruel, all that were false, all that were 
lieartless; thus, the Ilaqiies were feminine, the Vices 
were feminine, the Fates were feminine. Eve ate the 
apple, the daughters of Lot debauched their sire, Asc- 
nath tempted Joseph, Bathsheha led David into sin. 
Concubines were the curse of Solomon. From first 
to last woman had been a danger and delusion to the 
unsuspecting eye. Iler heart was vain, her head was 
light ; she was a thing of paint and patches, of bangles 
and braids. Her eyes were bent to entice, lier feet 
were swift to go wrong, her words were softened to 
deceive. Ilcr veins were full of fire, and those who 
came near her were always 8Corche<I. Her thoughts 
were unchaste; her mouth was greedy f<»r wine ; she 
threw out her lures to entice men's souls. Paintcil 
and perfumed like a harlot, she sat in the porches and 
the gateways ready to make hartcr of her charms. 
All her passions were seductive, all her inclinings for 
evil. Her touch w*as a taint, her very breath was 
unclean. Nay, the desires of her heart were unnatural 
and demoniac ; since she preferred a demon lover to 
a handsome youth of mortal parentage, and would 
yield her beauty to an imp of darkness ratlier tlian to 
a holy saint. 

Men of Gothic race, on the other side, lieUl woman 
in the highest reverence. Taken as either a mother 


or a wife, thoy looked on Iier, halMtually, as soiYretbing 
iiiier and more precionn than tlienisrivos. in their 
Hi in pie 80uIa, they imagined that the hcsi of men 
inurtt he all the better for having won a good woman^A 
love ; nay, that a wine husband and father would be 
Tnoix; likely to make a good i>a8tor, than a recluse who 
bad neither wife to Boften, nor child to instruct his 
lieart An old and mystic sentiment of their race 
inclined them to believe that women have a quicker 
pense and keener enjoyment of spiritual things than 
men ; hence they never could be made to see how the 
reparation of priests from the daily and domestic com- 
pany of women, should work for good. In their old 
mythologies, woman held a high and almost a sacred 
place. She was oracle and seer. She stood between 
men and God; interpreter, niediatrix; a visible link, 
connecting the seen with the unseen world. Woman 
was the subtler, rarer spirit; a charmer, a comforter; 
while man, at best, was but a warrior and a scald. 
Tliis h>t\y view of woman's jdace in nature, had been 
brought by our Gothic fathers from the old religion 
into the new ; and none of these men of northern 
genius could let it go. For a thousand years they 
fought for the right of woman to stand in honor, as 
equal and as wife, by the side of priest and bishop, 
just as she stood beside king and poet; urging that 
in a true Christian society, the clerk and laic should 
l>o considered as men of one household, and that St. 
Peter's followers should be left free to do as St. Peter 
himself had done. 

Itome, taking part with the nearer race and more 
exacting Church, condemned and swept away these 
protests of the Northern men. Her power to censure 
an<I coerce was great, because her sei*vice to nninkind 
Lad been so incessant and so brilliant, that with very 

WAli OF CREED >l 417 

little strain of \vonl8, the world nii<rlit l>e 8ai(l to have 
come to live in her nioiie; yet in hor Htru^r^le to 
BUHtain thin joyless Spanish (lo<j;nia hLc fought, nt 
least with her Gothic convert^ a losing battle ; siiue 
slie hatl to meet and beat a force renewed by naturo 
from generation to generation. In the end, all the 
great ehurehes of (lOthic origin cast that canon fnun 
their door; but not until they were obi igt^d to tiiiig 
away with it the habits which connected them with 

Age« before Luther, Calvin, Cranmer, an<l their 
comradcA, found themselves compelled by the public 
conscience, in tlieir several countries, to accept the 
pledge of marriage, a movement hod arisen in the 
North, which extended itself into every country then 
peopled, even though it were only slightly, by men 
i»f the (jothic race. 

The men and women who made this stir in the 
('hurch were known by different mimes; in Germany 
they were calletl the Sisterers, in Flanders the Be- 
guins, in Italy the Ueghartli, in Kngland the Ilrethreu 
(»f the Free Spirit, and in Spaiin, at a later day, the 
Spirituist&is. Not much difference can bo tniced in 
their views and i>ractices. They agree<l in rejecting 
the idea that woman is a snare. They agreed in 
rejecting the idea that love is a sin, and family life 
unfit for a minister of gnice. They taught that 
the male and female were created one flesh iu tho 
Lord, and that in the Lord tho woman sliould not be 
separated from the man. They said, iu word and iu 
deed, that true afiection is not carnal, and that breth- 
ren and sisters nuiy dwell together, not simply with* 
out offence, but with actual increase of their spiritual 





IX our own clay, nil the hi^li-chnrch movements run 
into Hoinc form of ftpirittial mystiriflm and social 
innovation. VV^licn a revival breaks out, the eon- 
verted man findn himself in a new relation to God 
and to his wife. 

The sentiment which nnderlien tliis state of mind, 
lon<f a«i^o heard in tlie sermonrt of Ann Lee, in the 
revelations of 8wc«lcnliori;, in the stories of OiHlie, 
has sometimes found a voice in our private life, — in 
the heart of our saddest and straitcst sects. Who 
will ever forijet the jtassionate words in which Mary 
(iurney, pleadini^ for her name and fame apiinst the 
loud and ^cnend condemnation of her guilty flight 
from her hus1mnd*s house, avowed that she was led 
into what the world condemned as her fatid and 
oitending sin hy jirenuine yearning for a truer spiritual 
life than she could find in the staid and tranquil de- 
eorum of that husband's home? All the Teutonic 
seers and scribes have had more or less of this mvstic 
sense of a hi<^her sexual affinity than that of ordi- 
nary wedlock. Swedenborg reports it as the law of 
Ills upper spheres. Giithe gives the yearning atter 
Huch a bliss to Werther, and touches with the same 
delicious tenderness the heart of his heroine Ottilie. 
In all our Gothic capitals from Stockholm to London, 
from Berlin to New York — we see a rajnd slackening 
and unwinding of the old-fashioned nuptial ties; to 

THE a o Tiiir m: i v i: i l ^w 

tlio jrroat relief and <loIi^lit of pii)iil.s in tlio mOioob' 
of Milton and (lothc, — to the vorv ^jroat ^rnndal and 
nmazcnient of men who look on marriage anci divorce 
from the jioint of view heUl hy men of the Latin 

A man in the south of Europe— a Sicilian, an 
Andalucian, a Tuscan — can hardly ever he hroiight 
to comprehen<l, much less to approve, the fui^s wc 
northern people makeal)out liherty of divorce. What, 
he asks, can it matter to a man of nense whether he 
can divorce lii« wife or not? Thinking hut little ofl 
his marriaicc vows on earth, a num in the south of 
Europe Iui8 no desire to s;i(hlle himself with the 
weight of a partner heyond the urave. In his idiom, 
and in his hclief, a wife is an impediment. In hi« 
eyes, women are much the same ; one female heing 
exactly like another, — with a diilerence only in the 
liei<;ht^ the shape, the color, and the hair. lie hniks 
on nmny of them as channing, on most of them as 
false, and on all of them as frail. His poeti and 
story-tellers inform him that the man who trusts a 
wonnm is a fool. If he cliances to have a wife, it is 
rare indeed that he chooses lior for himself. His 
union is arranged for him hy Ids motlier, — perh»|»s 
hy his mother's priest Love has no concern in his 
choice, and from the hahits of his coutp ry he has n(» 
hclief that the girl wlunn he makes \vs wife will 
regard him in any other light than her parti^^r in a 
family amd friendly game of chance. He dooH not 
mean to be true to her, and he hardly expects that 
she will be true to him. He assumes that, in n year 
or so, she will accept the 8cr\'ice8 of a friend — a cav- 
alier — who will carry her shawl, escort her to the 
play, amuse her with gossip and scandal, wait on her 
at muss; and, as he himself aspires to gain «oni«5 soft 

420 spinirrAL wives, 

rcwarJ for scrviccB of a similar kiiul in other qnarters, 
lie can never feel sure, act as he may, that lasso's fate 
will not ho his own. What then ? la it not hettcr 
to 8hut hit} eyes? Some years ago, in glancing 
through a niimher of marriage contracts in Florence, 
I was struck with what then appeared to me a sin- 
gular fact. Many of these papers contained a clause 
in reference to that prohahle cavaliere servcnte^ which 
Jlyron long ago told his countrymen tliey would never 
1>e aide to understand, because it is a thing of the 
Italian race. In many of these contracts, a clause 
was introduced defining the way in which the young 
bride, still a girl in the cloister, should select her 
cavalier, when the time arrived for her to act after 
the nninner of Iter kind, so as to make the new\ 
arnuigement for her infidelity ]>leasant to her lonl. ) 
In brief, the husband wais to have a veto on the choice 
of his wife's lover. Was Ityron wrong in saying that \ 
Kuglishmen would never learn to understand Italian 
Hfo ? 

A man of the Latin race believes it the heiicht of 
wisdom to be patient with a wonuin's fiiults. Now 
and then he may flash into jealous rage, and when he 
does so, his ire may be swift and fatal. J^it the 
husband who draws a knife against his rival is re- 
garded, at least in the politer cities, as a savsige. l\\ 
one of the finest houses in Florence, a pious an(l gentle 
woman once told me that no Tuscan ever drew his 
)K>niard in the cause of love, since jealmisy was out of 
fashion, and the man who troubled himself about 
other pco]do'8 amusements, would be thought a fool. 
Even when the knife is dniwn against a rival, it is in 
the name of some personal pique, not in revenge for 
an injury felt in the soul. Commonly the injured man 
18 willing to dawdle on; amusing himself in hi« neigh- 

THE (soTnir liKviWir^ 

bor's house, niul allowing hifl wife a liberty like his 
own. How can 8iieli a fellow be ninilc to undeivtuiHl 
GtUlie und Milton ; to enter into the H{iiritnail yeanl- 
ings of Werther for his mistress, or to seize the 
English iN>et's passionate plea in favor of divorce? 
Wlmt would he gain by any freer rule? ISupiH)HC he 
could put away one pretty sinner and take a second 
in her stead. Would his estate be better? Not a 
wliit. The new bride would behave exactly like the 
first Found for him hy his mother, by his lawyer, by 
his confessor, she would probably be an equal stranger 
to his heart. 8lie might love him for a time, with the 
l>sissionate animal ter\'or of the South. When he fell 
away in his attentions, she would cool ; when she 
found herself deserted, she would accept the consola- 
tions freely otlcrcd to her hand. Why should such a 
prospect tempt him? Not feeling, like a northern 
man, the want of a true nuirringc, he has little or no 
impatience with the false. All marriages api>ear to 
him the same in kind, — the work of kinsmen, priests, 
and lawyers, not a contract of the licart. Who ever 
heuixl one word of the affections spoken by an Italian 
on the eve of wedlock? Ot\en, he has hnnlly seen the 
girl whom he is shortly to make his wife. From some 
male or female agent he hears that she is young, 
accomplished, rich. What more can he want? A 
nature fitted to his own? Tush! What he asks in a 
wife is not a counterpart to himself, a soul in harmony 
with his own, but a nice girl, with a good name, a fine 
estate, and a complaisant priest. What cares he for 
lier afiinities and genialities? Tliese things wilP 
arrange themselves in time. Knough for him if the 
young lady is likely to give liim a son, to be discreet 
in her amours, and not to worry liim about going with 
her to mass. 


422 SriRlTLMs WIVHS. 

What 18 true of tliiR Italian in liis private lite is. 
true, in a decree, of all his brethren in the ponth of j 
Kurope. MeniherH of a Christian wociety whieh makes / 
wedlock a bargain for life, and whieh denies the pos- 
Hibility of divorce, they are only too prone to take 
marriage as they find it, — as they would accept either 
a blank or a prize from the wheel of fortune. It is an 
afiairof so much money and so much time. It begins 
to-day; some future day it will end. Meantime tiicre 
are consolations for the weary, — since, when the bond 
is kept to the letter, no one objects to its being <laily 
broken to the spirit. Why, then, make ado? 

A man of (tothic blood cannot rest in this lax 
]diilosopby. Full of subtle sympathies and mystic 
yearnings towards the partner of his soul, he throws 
himself into that future, in which he cannot divorce 
himself^ even by the power of death, from the object 
of his present love. The family life appears to him 
sacred, and he can hanlly think of heaven without 
having his wife by his side to share it. 

But wliile he sees in this true marriage of souls a 
nian*8 crown of i^lorv, he also sees in the false mar- 
riage of wives and husbands a man's crown of thorns, 
fn>m which the compassionate hand of law should 
ofler him release. Thus he passes round to the c(ni- 
clusions of which we read. The idea of nuptials for; 
vtemity implies the possibility of a true and a false 
tmirriage; true marriage implies the right to seek for 
the natural mate; and false marriage implies the 
liberty of divorce. 

This is the eircle in which he moves ; and hence he 
may find a ecrtain legitinnicy in those excesses and 
abernitions of spiritual love which would strike a Gaul 
us signs of nothing but disease.' 

Ill free countries like Prussia, England, and the I 


UnitCfl Statcft, fhun^e« of law mnst follow llic actnal • 
|)ro«^reA8 of |iul)lic t)iou«r]it. Ileiicc, all tliron*;h the 
north of Eumpc and America, we nee that the i'lJ 
laws of man and wife are hein^ modiiied; the niodili- 
cations having the common pnr|io8e of Iielping to five 
nnhappy conplei*, paired hy mistake, from vow« which 
they cannot keep. In Knicland, a.s hecomcK the mwt 
con8er\'ative hnmeh of tim Gothic race, we are nioviiijf 
slowly along this path of change; we are not yet clear 
ahout that nnion of hiinliand and wife heyond the 
grave; hut we are ipiii-kened hy wlmt we see is liciiiij 
done in Gennany and America, and wo 8hall pn»l»aiil; 
keep in some sort of line with these advancing wings 
of the Teutonic power. 

I'erhaps we have hanlly come as yet, to see how 
much these strange heginningrt of anew life arc due 
to a sudden quickening of the Gothic hlooil. Kven in 
thin<r»^ which do not concern the familv life, wc j^iK) 
how this Gothic race in Europe, in America, and eUo- 
whcre, is stirred to it8 highest reach, and to its lowM 
depths. Never, perhaps, since our fathers came out of 
their pine forests, and threw themselves into the front 
of history, has the Gothic family shown more strc^ff 
and storm of nohle passion than in this )»resent day. 

It douhts, it fights, it pulls down, it huilds up; it 
emigrates, it criticises, it invents with a power ami 
thoroughness of heart unequalkMl in the past, Evcr)*- 
where it is gaining ground. Here it founds an empire, 
there it invades the celestial spheres. Nothing daunts 
it — nothing stops it One day it changes Central 
Europe by a battle; another day it wins America from 
the Latins by a threat. In the social field it is no less 
active than it is in the political field. All the strange 
social trials which in our day excite the brain aud 
scare the imagination of timid people are it^i work. 


Other l)roe«lf> of men may have very high qualities 
and very nohle virtues. No one will clony that the 
Celt ha8 a tire, the Frank a skill, the Tuscan a taste, 
to which their fair-haired rivals in Berlin, London, and 
New York, have scarcely any claim. They make 
Hplendid orators and soldiers; their wit heing only 
brighter than their swords. In every form of art tliey 
liold their own ; and in some of the loftiest fliglits of 
intellect they bear away the palm. But in some things 
they can only pretend to a lower rank. They are less 
susceptible and have fewer relations with the world of 
spirits. It is in these things that the Gothic races are 
rich beyond compare; in openness of mind towards all 
the ghostly messengers of fate — the voice that shrieks, 
the touch that burns, the form that haunt«. Poorer in 
art, but richer in spiritual gifts, than many of their fel- 
lows, the men of this Gothic race would seem to have 
been armed by nature with the means for proving all 
these theories which concern the highest interests of 
our spiritual and social life. 


/ have been led to print ProfenMr^s Saehs* Evidence in full, 
awl in the original, for three reasons. 

In the first place, because this document is full of eurioua 
and important details, of the highest interest for contemporary 
historg,which personal and political considerations have hitherto 
kept from tJie public eye. In the second place, because it has 
been made the subject of many comments on tJic pari of Ebelian 
urifers, particularly on the jmrt of Kanitz and Diestel, whose 
controversial wriiings are altsolutely unintelligible to strangers 
nrithofU it. In tlie third place, because, though I fiave rejected 
some of the facts, and neurly all the opinions fiere stated, it is 
the foundation of much of my own narrative. 

My permission to use, including permission to pritU, this 
papeTf and in putting it before Uie reader, I believe that I am 
serving IA0 interests of truth. 







In dor frozen «ifn HtTrii Arcliidiakonu.s Dr. Kbcl Kchwcbcn- 
dcii UiittTHurliiin^^hnrhe l»iii icli 8o\voIil von dom liiohijccn 
Koiiigl. Con(iiHton«), als iiiicli ^i|l^ltor von drni Konif^l. Jn- 
(|ui8itorialc bIm 'Avufro vornoninicn wonlon, und von dor 
li^tztom Bohonk' vii'lfarli. Kiiir jrn»Hs«» Koilu? von Frajjen 
ist niir vorf^i'lr^t, und von niir mil (i«'wisst*nhuftifrki*it, ohnc 
dio niindcsto ]H*rH>nli(*lic Krr(*>r(li<*it lH*antwortft und die 
Anssn^t; M'llisl diirrli einon Kid U'krafli^ct wordrn. 

Ilirrinit konnt(> irli drnn anrh die AufpilM*, die niir in 
diosor Sncho p'stollt war, fiir pi'lost liulti*n ; denn icli hoIUt 
huln* nicht dio AufTordrniii^ in niir frcfiililf, al8 Klufrt^r gi'gi'ii 
Klx'I und Miiiirn Aniiang aufziitretfii, wit* irii donn aucb veil 
dm 10 fJuhn*n, die icIi aiis jeiicr VcHiinduiig licrau^gclutit, 
still und ruhijf verlrUt, wcdiT durcli That nooh Wort ctwis 
l*Vinds('ligrH ircgcn ilin und dir SrinipMi untrrnoninicn habc; 
ja, von ihncn auhgclicndrni Unglinipf gogon niicli halic ich 
nichtri AnderuH als (■li*irliniuth cntgrgciifri*si*tzt, dvn lu 
vrriiigcn niir nicht einmal Hchwcr |r«'Wordc'n ist. Nur niit 
viTtrautcrrn Froundrn haU* ich in diesc*rganxcMi Zoitzuwcilcn 
UI>or j<Mie Verhindungrn und ihro grosm^i, U*klagcnRwcrtben 
Vcrirrungon grs]»rorhi*n. Xohnic ich nun glciehwobl und 
frciwillig dan Wort, und xwar uni KinigcH niitKuthcilon, das 
dcni Kichtcr in psychologischcr Beziehung viellcicht dicnen 
konnte, so kdnnte mir dies den doppeltcn Vorwurf der inncm 
Aninassung und dcr au88crcn Unberufenhcit zuzichcn. Thoiln 
alM>r ist die zu niachondo Mitthcilung dor Form nacb dcr Art, 



daFf) 68 <U*ni RichtiT gnnz nii)u'iiii^rst«'Ilt hiviht, oh or ilavou 
eiiiiMi (irliniurh iiiuflK'H will iiiiil wrlclicii, tlirils aber — 
uihI clirs ist fiir inii'li drr i5ewoj^uiigsj;ruinl — selirint mir 
liic piiizc* Sat'lii*, vuii (l«*r die Urdu ir^t, oiiie iiinerlicli zu 
venvirki'ltr, unp*\v4»liiiliclic\ mil i)sycliolo^irtehi!n Kuthscia 
so hohr vcrhiillti', jVdom, dor nieht cM'j^ne und thcuer 
frkaiifle Krrahrungcii dariilier hcsitzt, j^russc SchwIiTigkciten 
ill dcr Autfassuiig und Heurt hoi lung hogcgncn mussten. Dcr 
Auswcg al)er, in verwirkelton nioralischon VerhaltnisKcn sich 
'drH UrthfilH iilxT Andre zu ontstchlagon, ist dcin Kichter 
nieht gestaltet. Je wohlwoIlcMidor, geistrcichcr, in vielfachen 
VtThaltnis.^en crfahroner ich mir den Richter diei^cs Fallcs 
vorstollc, jc mchr niit all den vorztiglichcn Kigcnschaften 
au^geriistet, ilie ihn zur Losung diesor Hchwierigen Aufgal)e 
cignen, desto mehr nniHM ieh ihn mir aueh alH cinon Rolchen 
denken, dem jeder Ueitrag zum Oricntircn willkommcu, 
weiiigi«tcn8 nieht gleiehgiiltig nein werde. Ieh habc wcder 
die Ahnieht, anzuklagen, noeh die, mieh zu vertheidigen ; 
aber ieh wenle von Anderen und von mir spreehen miissen, 
dcnn 08 handolt sieh von einor 8aeho, die von <len Personcn 
nieht abzulos4»n ist, ja die Saehe selbst ist Niehts als eben 
Vorirrung dor IVrsonon: sioht man von diesor ah, so hat 
jono gar koine Kxistonz, koinon Inhalt. Was iehniitzutheilcn 
haln*, i»t psyehoh»gisehor Art; os iH'zioht sieh also auf 
Soolonverhultnisso und 8o«*loiizustundo, aueh von diesor Seite 
her ist von don l*orsf»nen nieht zu abstruhiron ; denn nur was 
jene bodingcn, sind dioso. — Kin (leisllieher wird angoklagt, 
oin Irrlohrer zu soin, dioso Irrlehre a1)er als (jehcindohre zu 
iM'handoln. In diesor (■oheindehre soil nieht bios Viclos 
onthalton scin, das dor evangelisehen Kirehenlehrc widor- 
ppricht, die Sittliehkoit vorlebl, dor biirgerliehon Gesellschaft 
vcrdorblieh, die Faniilien zorriittend ist, sondeni, or soil sich 
zur Vorbreitung seiner Irr- und Gehoimlehre sohr l)edonkliehcr, 
ja vcrfiihrorisehcr Mittel l>odicnon. Wcr sollte die 8chwcro 
cinor solehcn Ankhige nieht cmpfindcn, und in ihni sieh nieht 
uoniittolbar die Vormuthung dcs natiirliehcn Wohlwollens 
rogcn, C8 wtirde hiorlx»i wohl wonigstens viol Ucbortrielwncs, 
M issdeutondos soin, violleieht sogar ouch Verfolgung aus 
bosom Willon gogen wahre Frommigkeit! Haben die 
Weison und Fnunmon nieht von joher Verfolgung und harte 
Verhlunidung erfahronl^ Sind sie nieht immcr angeklagt 
wordon, Vorfiihn»r zu soin ? Und wenn etwa die Erinnening 
an tihnlicho Vorirrungim in friihcren Zeiten die M6gliohkcit 
Holrlier KrcMgnisiH* ausscr Zwoifol setzen oinon Schritt niihor 


ziir Sache thun 1u88t, 80 mus^ 8irli d«H*li haltl uiid xiinurh^t 
di*' Frajje (•rhcboii : wit ist die IVrsoii, dio in uiiH*n*r Zi'il 
i^olrho lit^hrc hat nnsiniim, lt*lin*ii mid V(»rhn*itfit kr>iin«M:? 
Uiid wor Kind dirjoni^on IVrnonon, dii* in nns<*n*r 7a'\\ eiiH>n 
KolrliiMi Kinfiusrf auf sicli lialn^n ausiilNMi la}<s<'n kruiiion? 
l>vnn allonlinj^H hut ch viel AufluncntU^M, dasH dun in IUmIc 
Htehondo Krvigninn vinfs unsiTiT /i*it ist ; nicht, aU wimiu 
ihr nanifutlirlk in r(di^ir»s<*r l><*zi«diun^ tlict Neignng xum 
KalsrhiMi tier niannirhfarhsten Art ali^inge, von dit*sor 
viclinehr ixt sie nur xu H*hr iKdiaftt't. nnd nio fC(*nith iiiilt^r 
That elten 80 loicht in i\v\\ falschen riolisnius, in dio faliU'lH^ 
Mystik, als in falsi-hen iliiti«)nali.sninri. wrdirend d«H.'h waiirt* 
Kt'li^iositiit Pielsit rin ()^oiVrnharle.H) Mystrrinni nnd lauU*n^ 
i%a(i«)nalitat in vollkoninuMirr Vi*rtra^lii*hk«*it in niHi cut halt 
Auflallend also und unst'rer Zrit frcind s«*h<*int an jiMiem 
Kreif^nistks nnr die Phyhikutheohif^ie, tlie AU'nteuerlichkfit 
des rohou Anthroponioridiisnin?*, von 8i*itiMi der fjehre. uml 
die Verstccktheit, die jesuitisehe Melhode der Traxix. Uelior 
dies4*H Problem, daa unp*h'*»st keineii Zu^ranj; zum Verstohru 
der Saehe laftst, kann, i^iaube ieh, preniigender AufsehhisK 
gej^dK'H wenlcn. 

KIk'1 — denn dieBcr ist der Tracer der ganzen Sacho, jeUt 
ein Mann von etwa 52 Jahren — ist eine iirs|irun^lieh vielfach 
begabte, al)cr in keiner Weiso zu eincr n*inen Knlwickeluu); 
gelangte Natur. Sein Vater, ein Keidiehter Landgidstlicher, 
hat, wio en 8eheint, einen Hehwaehen KinfluiM anf yeino 
Krziehung au^geiiht; dap'^en ist sein (jrossvater M*hon ein 
Sehwarnier pewesen, nnd, wie ieh von densen Sohn k4*1ImI, 
th'ni Vater des in Kede stehen<len KIk'I, pidiort, lrrk'hn*n 
hal))er voni geistlirhen Anite entfernt wonh*n. Weniy; 
vorlK*reitet, i8t Kbel auf eine der hiesigen Schulen.die daniaU 
alio in kluKHchem Zustande waren, gekoninien, un<l udt sc^hr 
geringcn Kenntninsen von ihr, wie sputervon der Univornilut 
entlasoen worden. Ks ist <lieH eiiier der wiehtigsten Uin- 
Rtande zu seiner Krklarung nieht nnr, sondern auch zu 
Keiner Kntsehuldigung. Kr ist nienials auH deni ZuMtande 
der tiefsten Unwissenheit heransgekonnnen ; er hat keine 
Krfahrung von der geistigen Arl»eit, alNT aueh nieht vou deni 
geistigcn Segen einer waliren Forsi»linng ; cr weixrt e?* nieht^ 
was es heissc, und wie es thue, init i'ruhlcnien, mit Zwcifrin 
ringen ; er kcnnt nlcht die innero Stellung und lialtuiig dcs 
Geistcs geistigen Aufgaben gegeniilier; er ist tnncrlich ohne 
alien Schutzgegcn Kinfrdle,gcgcn Ilalbheiten;cin UiiiKi^ndnial 
dagewesener nnd widerlogter Irrthuni, tauclit er ihm auf, wird 


als Iiis)iiration, aIh unzwcifclliarte Walirhcit or^rin'on, dcnn— • 
<*r i^nurirt hie nii'lit <>twa absiclitlii'li, HuiKlcrn that.suchlich: 
t*r knniite iWv (ifscliirlitc iji ilirciii Jnlialti* iiielit. und ho ist 
fip'iitlioli fiir ihii noch Niclits geschchrn. Kh muss doinnach 
ziinurhst festjri'haltoii wrrdrii, dass vv — was kIcIi aus alien 
dm von iiiin gcliaUciien grosservii Vortruf^en, wie nic 8icli 
abs<*hririlic*l) wt'iiifcstnis bi'i d<'n ActtMi (iiidni warden, ergehen 
muss — in rincr M'ltiMien rvalcMi Unwissenlu'it zu hk^iben das 
Un^liiek p'liabt hat. 

]>U'si>s wurdf fiir ilin v\\\ um so f^rossrres, als or der Anlage 
nnrh sow grosser Bowogliehki'it und Keizliarkvit d«\s (iivisU's 
8o\vohl nls <1<'S .(tiMhiitlu's ist. Uiitor der Menge sich zu 
vrrlirn»n, war wi'ilvr srine Krsliinmung norli soirii! Ni'igunjr. 
Hoi gros>or (■«>wandtlaMt ufhI N<*tligkoit d(T liiissrn'n Kr- 
Hrlioinung vrrr<'hlte vr niclil, ciiicn giinstipMi Kindruck zu 
mai*hon, und. IHdiafl wiinsrliend, Hieli Uauni zu macheu, 
oline ini ISrsitz wiirdipT Mittol dazu zu soin : uuaufgoU'gt, 
auch daH friiliiT Vorsuumto durcli nacldiolondcn FleitiH 
und intpnsivrn' Anstrongung zu ci*8otzon, hildeto er an 
Hi(*li dasjrnigp zu rinrr grosscn Fertigkcit aus, was in der 
(■rsidUrhaft v\\\ insiuuantos Woson gennnul wird. Difs 
halt' ihm durch alle Kxaniina durcli, urvvarh ihm cinzehie 
Uonncr und hraclito ihn friihe in*s Ami als liandgristliclum. 
Ih'vor alK»r in drr Kntwirklung fortgeschnltrn werden 
kann, muss nur <'in Moment angefiihri werden, das vom 
U'stimmtesten Kinllusse gewesm ist. 

Fridic mimlich, schon wfihrend seines Aulenthaltes auf 
der Universitiit, maehte Khel die Bekanntsehaft mit cinem 
Manne, (h*r sieh im Hesitze einer Kenntniss glauhte, die 
vollkommen ilureh den Verstand zur Kinsichl hringenden 
Aufsehluss uImt alio Mysteri<Mi der Keligion, der Matur und 
der Vernunft zu geben vermoehte, die er deshalh aueh 
sehlechthin Krkenntniss der Wahrheit nannte: oine Kr- 
kenntniss, naeh der 8i<*h die Weisesten und Krieuchtesten 
aller Zeiten ges«dint, von der aueh einigo Strahlen auf die 
Auserwahlten gefallen waren, die aln'r von Niemandem, 
selbst von den Apostein nieht in Hirer Vollstiindigkt'it eriangt 
werden konnte ; denn dies war nur tlem FIciscli gewordenen 
i*araklet aufliehalten, und dieser sei cben er — Schrmherr; 
denn von diesem ist nun die Uede; dass er der Mensch 
gewordenc Paraklet sei, wurde aus dem Systeme U»wiesen, 
und wicderum die Mogliehkeit dieses Systt^ms. sowie seine 
iinuniMtiiMHliche Wahrheit dadureh. <iaHs cs ja nicht mensehlieho 
Weisheii, Kontlern gottliehe Verkiindigung duroh den volleu- 

fMTh'IKltt: fX KoX/f7S/lKI,'(7. 

detrn, McniH^ii ffi-wnnK'ticii t'linikli-l fri; ntm In'iilrn 
.lorn Iini-oiii .l.« rty-t...... .1. - I'urokl. r<. r..!(£i.'. lU. 

Uif vollk'. .inc WuLrltrii iiIhj- .\II>-. ilk- ilinr lli<-il 

U'lTili'ii wiilli'ti, il. Ii. (lit- xiir (cluutiifTfii Aiinnhme iIi-h S} 
fu-h l»-nil liinl'-Ti wi)llfn, niir>ir<'S'>i<m-ii wi-nlf(i kriiiiu 
iIh»». xmIiiiM (lii'H in •■itiifci'iit I'lnfnitin- xil tilaiitlc )(i>k>i 
prill ttiTilr, dun tiiiixfiii^iihri)cu Itckh niif »li-r Knlc Ih-j 
^^.r.k^ Alli- IVr^.-tiuri' hcI. .k'oi Si-lti.iluTr liul 

...Irr w.iiil t'tir lih-fiil..- MI..-.II-JI iiiU<>rlk-l> M-fir Iwln 

IVr^nnlivlikcil.'ii ill) <ivi-l>.r(virl..- s.-iri, V-rht-rlH-^lii 
Ans.r«ril.lir. n.if Hi.- «-|m.i. ix .l.-ii lt..,'lii'rii ilrr U>iw=, 
hiiie<'ikriiU-t war. 

So R. II. iwfiri-lh' Si-hrmlitTf m woiiiii, ilnn l>icr>l(' 
wilchi! IVfi'im Ht'i, tliiNH rr fii;riir ilii« koux 8[H-xii'lk> hii 
lii'raiii'fiiiKl: iT wur i-iiicr ikT KriK>'l huh ik-r j\]H>ka 
wcliUi' ilif Sir|ti-I kriTlifii. iiimI »<> i^'Wirw wnr rr kiv 
ilii^M t'T •l<it NiiMifii Uriiiriok l>k'.-<i<-l i» Ilclhrii'li ; 
kn'clKT vi'rniiiMkltc. l)i<'r> kiitn- i< li vmi Ilk-Mi-I xi-lli 
fn-lliiii k.ini'n Aii^lnmi pnoiiitiiiii km, I'iiiijriii i 
(ln>.'k>'ii xuki^^'ii: n- ki'iiix' 'l.!^ Srl,<^iil..'rr-M'k.- SvMi- 

iiii'Nr. Itiixi- St -Kill I iilxT, Hi<' IT IS :iiii>iii.>,'(lit' 

k<niiti>ih>' <k'r Wukrki il (;rivi>liri Vkl.Jo Alk'K. wmti ni 
Ik^iliiiifiiiiifrrfiiill wiinli': ill<- iiii>>i'i|iiit.'li' Ariiiiiliiiie ik'l 
li.'l.k<'iMi1'-<i t>..i liw.'iiill;: im.'Ii ilir >tiii»iti.'<' Wiihrli.- 
M-ll«-ii; -ik- .liirfir k.'iii liiiv-^in p-fnr.l-rl w.-rik-ti ; 

mil riir.-ii tk-r Arl h.iivii U'.rkr il.v- T. iiMb, iln fjp 

O-r lt«w>'iH, idkI xn-nr ilrr l>:><'Iisti-, iiiiiiiitK-lknrHr. kut 
■Hit ilirnlxr, *u hin- uml ai>-<'ii.>inn>r.., Alk-rt U-\ 
WiTilcii. Ik-KiUi^tiiiim^ii fi'i'ilirli, "ik-r ivd-* iiur cu ki'I 
ihI.t i>-K<'ii<l wk- 'Inliiii p'WMii.U »• nkn koiiiiK-, wiin'i 

k'MMMK'M. Wl'ini >1«'-k Ui'lll IX.lllWriKUtr. Ul«l HII.- 

<(u.-)l.' ,-iiii.itiil KiniKi's ill 'liiMT I.fiin-, wiiHiiiit «irk 
TI.»!>Hcli.>n, wciiti oii.'li Tiur |>l-.u..lit,' niift'.-r.i-.-li-i 
HU-lllen, odi-r mil |>li.vHkulls.'l>vri uikI |<liil»s<.iiliim-licn 
reiiicn. wtnri aiich rulp'-lu'ii uud liincft niik-rloglcn, «■ 
/itxoiiimrnhani; hat. Unlcr <l<-ii nchr wcnifrcn IVi 
nitmlidi. dio ficii kii jrnrr Zi-it di'iii Si'lkinlicrr angcnch 
hniii^ii, wnrfinjii[)p-r Miiiipi,iU-iii eii fliiiiiHiM nthon an I'i 
Wrnii aiicli iiiiriiuJ'.iir.niiiiiii'iiliiiiijrvii.lvn. ni.-lil (n-hiirin'" 
.trii'ti \iilijrki'ii)ili<^.M'ii iiii'hi ^.'Mii/Jii'li p-r<-klt km; t-nii 
1. U ; lii.-icr kut Mnnrlic* «ii|.|ir 

(xkr n 


mi nU 

1 Jk'ii 

weiiigi'ti-ii't I'inixi: Kiicknirlit niiT die ThiilNueki'ii der 
backluiig xu nikiut^u, diu Auc«ba haUta kann. Uiijiuk 

IJM^^i^M^^i— ■ , „ ,„,,,,„,„„„^ B , 


iibrigcns, in dcr cij^cnen l^ildun^ fortschrcitend, hat sicb 
Isiiigst von joneii Tiiorlicitcn iind Scliwintlclcicn iibgeloKt und 
zii fiiM'hi ac*liiuii;;.s\voi*tlicn (jynni»siiil)(>lircr ini Fiiclio dor 
c'leiiKMiturtMi Nalur^fivsfliic'litc nitwiekflt. 

Aiif KiK'l uIht niit^sli; dies ViThilltnisrt gunz l>cHond4'r:4 und 
1>i'stiuini<'iul wirktMi. (fi'istif? suhr ri'ixliar und »iif]^('rc>};t, 
nacii iM'soiidurrr J^'dcutsanikoil HlrrlMMid, zur Tiieusopliio 
(viclk'iclit scImmi diircli v'ww. crbliclu; Anla<^(^; Iiinnvi^ond, 
forscliuii;js- uml urbritssfhiMi, olmc Krnntiii.'^s wissonscliafi- 
liclior und «*indrinp>nil(T Art von dor Tlioo|o;xit', lMiiloso|ihie, 
Nntur, rtc. : iIiiImm p'wiss niriil. olino wahrlnifiip' ri'li;ciJ»sc 
Krrrpmt?, tiinci or luor Nalirniifc unci vorlookondo Vorsuoliun^ 
ini UelKTuiasso. Ks iumdolto ^icli xuvJrdorsl uni g.ittllolio 
IMiigo un<l iliro tiofston Tiofon ; dioso durfton niolit goHuclit 
w<M*don, donn hio waron c\\c\\ alio solion j^ofundcn und aufgo- 
fiookt. Man wusslo niolir und (f riisson^s als die von dcr Pin- 
HtornisH Ih'dookto Wolt ; man war ini Goistorrcicho bezeiclinct, 
ausf^ozoiohnot und ausorwiililt ; vblligo Disponsation von 
doni nitiliHanion \Vo<ro dos Lornons, von dcni Loliron, und 
id)ordioH nooh das Lookondo und inncrlieb Sliirkondc, ja 
zuni Trotz Anro^on<lo, dns so liUulig da gofundon wird, 
wo ftich oin<» ooolosia ])rossa hildot. Donn in prosscr und 
allpotnoinor iMissaolitunp als unwissundor Soliwarnier, ja al.s 
ein >^oisi4>.svorwirrt or, still dt^liriromlor Mann stand Soliunhorr 
fast allgoniein (in Loipzi;^ liiolt nnin os fiir rallisani, ilin in 
oinor Irronanstalt zu dotiniron). Dor Stolz, ja dor Jloolnnuth 
euoht niolit ungorn dns Martyrortliuin. naniontlioii, wonn os 
i*in nicht kac zu liarles ist ; liior ul>ordios war Truslung und 
irdiriolie Triistung ganz in dor Niilio: Hollto niobt bal<l, und 
hior auf Krdon und von KunigslMTg au8, dns lloioh (jSottos 
iiiit eincm iil>orsohwcngliehon Maassc von Goniisson dcs 
I A* {1)08 und dor 800I0 bcginnon? Holitcn niolit die Ilaupt- 
)NTsonon (und Andort^ gab es in diosoni kloinon Kreiso, "das 
kloine lliiuiloin/' nioht) in oiner Kiirzo von Froudon, Khrcn 
und llorrliclikoit gli'tnzen? llic und da cinigo Missaohtung 
2U tragcn, war ais lotzlo Gegcnwohr, die dcr Teufol nocli 
verguchtc, cben nicht sc^hwor; Jiil)oIworte liessen sich ja dafiir 
finden, und so war os ja so vcrhoisscn. 

In Rolchen Vorhultnissi^n und in solohcr Kiohtung stand 
Ebcl, a]8 cr Landgoislliohor wurdo. Diosor Wirkungskrois 
alter konnte soinon Wiinsohon nioht ontsproohon. Das ein- 
facbe Kvangeliuni pnMiigcn ^ er hntte cine huhore Weisheit, 
die Erkenntniss dor Wahrheit. Mit Landlcutcn konnte cr 
da4» Dcue Koich aufzubauen uicht hoffcn. £r bcmiihtc tficbi 


cinr Stclli' in ilcr Stn-ll i.u •rlioltt'ii, niul iln ili<- rnHliiriT- 
Ki'lit;i<»"<l«-l<n'r-SU'll>-iimliic><ifti'ii KrM-Uriflwkolli'Kiuni vsl 
Kiinti', tH-wurli L-r xich H-lir an^i-U'ici^ntlicli (laniiii. uUaol 
H.'ii>c<>k<in»iniiH'li(' Slflluii]; ilti>lun-li riTfi<-lil(i)iiiivnr. > 
ciiK'tii M-liktrlil iilH-rMaiidi-iii'ii Kxmiii-ii pfi'liiti>:ii- it xii ilir 
.\r»l.-. ])!•' Kin-li<- ilic^r Anslnlt. .'iff.-xtlirl. t>iir Tot 

IriOm-r iiixl /.;.[.'ru<p- <;>'r!<>-llH-lt U-r^li >t. i~l ^rl,r l.lrin. 

•!ii>itct'riiin»u'ii vmi Anrlnvn L-=.ii.'l<l, i~i ^i.' l.-i.'l,i -.-fxllt 

h,il.l »lH'rri.lIl. i:>il.i i» .Ivr Tl»it w:>r .ti.'^ ».>.'l< Ki.T ili'f I 
l)iiMkiri-l>ll>'U.' \'.'rh;.liiil:..~ i>i liioip-r SlH.ll inn >-».• /^-il 
iiuiiitii'li iiii All'4iMirtii.-ii rlii'ti iliirrli (lie voriiiip-;:itnt:< 
tTM-lililtii'ii.i.'ii 111. i<;Mi-.>'ili's Kri>'|;i'H iKUfi-l iiM'ii»- ill 
IMi-liuiiK j<-il'-rifiill*, iiUr iiin'li in i-Jrn- iiiisMTllH) »ifh I 
kuiitli'iirlofnTtitlK'n. Au^MT iiii'linnn wiinllp'ii (■viiitli'' 
llii" ilimii>r fill niflir o«i>T miinl.r iH-iiinimfw Aiidilui 
lintK-ii. xoj; i1iiiiiiili> lN>xi>iMli-r^ <1<T KoMHi-ioriiilraili Km 
nai'l.iiinli(r<-r (ir<>!li<'li-W.>Miiiir'»<'l.<-i- I i.-n.-rnU]' 
ixli'iit. M-lir Vi>']i' uti. S"iiii- I'n'.lit.'O't), ilir in ili>Kiiiiiti>> 







ilim Mi-iint-|ii'tip<ii 

wlirtili<-lir. Scinv V'nlritifi- nlicr, wii- wim- Wirkitliffsv 
i>liiT]iiLii|ii Hiinii riiliip-r Arl, iN'iriii-litciiil, vriiinlii)i'ti<l. xi 
T'iIu'i'ikI, iii<' irM-liijliinKl. Si'lm- I'm! i (.'I in li-lmtni sirti 
IIII Itilx-Uvulirlirili'ii iiml ]>ilH'ls|irJii-lir, uInt Kic wurvri i 
iitii'r>i'liuU>'t mil Itiltil- mid LiidiTichM'ti. (Jniix biiiIith 
t's niit ilrii I'rpili^U'ti KIh'IV. Wwt miIi iiinii rinc-it juu 
w-liiiiipi), sinrk hin iiir Lciilcii<^'hnft iiitrRun'plcii Mnnii 
tn'icii, vvniHlim ilin vull Kiri-r (lriii)ri'ii »if dan, wum 
)rnii»-.. viillc, n-iiit (.'liriHti-iiDiiiin fa-iiiiiiiil wunli''; iliu ^^ 
iliT ItllK'l it'Iluit tirunfrti-n (.■iiiniidcr, dnxwiK-lii-n ininxr Ai 
ninp-n ouk froniiiicii (ifHiiiipcn, fiiiM-liicdPuvii Vcrwirfvii 
di'sjcnipcn. wkh nulit vU'it C'liriMlml liiiiii untl Heine w 
]'>kcnuUiiMt) int. doll (T aui:li imtiii'rrurt uiii Ablvhiu'n k 
Bill- Wieecnschnft, die niclit Krki-nntnixH di-r Wnliriu'il 
(I>ipiwr Aumlruck, Mllmt cin l>lliii>-i'lii'i-. knm Ix-HaiKlfri' )ii 
iiiid fCbMliilrit vor.) Itodi-ii Hilrlur Art. mil IriddHK-liunii 
■Wiiniic, din iiiir bu Icii-lil v..ri liiilii.rn iiml /.nliiin-ni fiiV 
lti-[;cit<lrTun)i pliiiilcii uini, vi>i'^i'lrtiK''"< k>-iiiifii iiiilil 

r<-l.]i'ii, Kiiiilmrk xii luni'li.i) I dit" lliiiii-ii uic niirli 

I^rnU' mnn nun viiIIi'iiiIh tClnl |ii-rw>iilii-li ki'iiin-ii — uiid 
wnr Milir Iciclit. donti it wur iilwrHUH unltci'tfi-nkiiinniL'nil 
Urij^Litrie UDd vvraliixkiu nidi juaiT Kiadruck duruL t 



vnt«;rjrrnjr«'!*»*t7j«'n. iVnn io dor |>orHJ*uilicheii Uoriihrmi^ war 
rr vtilltT iii'srliiiic'iilijrkrit uiid Fiijrsaiiikfit, Xifliln von doj;- 
ninti^rhor Nnrrlirii, wo er kcine Nri^^mi;? dafiir lM»iiH»rklc; 
NichtH von }r«^wolintrr Ortli<Hlf»xie, wo it mil nirht ho (toninn- 
ten xn^annnrntrnf; kurz, vr wnnlo Jcdcni lMn|ncni, Joiicn) 
p'wihM«nna>*s»'n p?m*hl, nur dranj? rr uIhtuII anl* dio Krkonnt- 
nis>t<l4*r Wahrhrit. Uiid was \M lMllipr(*r, tind was niusH nndir 
iind willijror zup»'jr«'lH*n wfTclcn, als olM'n dies, wcnn nuin no<*h 
nirhl wri>*H, was ilrr tivfcre Sinn, odi*r oif^cntlicli welcho 
)run/.liclM; Vcrzirlitnn^ auf Sinn iilNTliaupt cm ist, die liintcr 
jcnrni t<o hannloscn Ansdruck nich viTl»ir^t? So orinn«'re 
irii ndi'li. dasri vr inir in drr crstiMi /vit unnTcr Bckaiintschaft, 
da rr niirh vom Ltdie S|>iiiozaV, den ich tdion danialn xiiin 
f*ri4trn Male nulier kennen lernte, ul»erstronien hiirte, uiid 
iianientlieh den fronunen Sinn dieses verkannten und ver- 
fol;rten Mannvs hervorlielien, tlieilnehnieiid sa^te und zu- 
Hininiend: nieinen arnien Vater liaU'n sie aneli verfoljrt, well 
er einip* spinoxistiselie Ansieliten an;renonnnen hatte. Kei 
n*ifen'r Kinsiclit spfderer Jahre bin ieli wlhst von nieineni 
KntliusiasnniH fiir jenen aiisp'zeielineten Denker znriitkp'- 
koninien, Imm nalierer Iiekanntseliaft init KIh*I IiuIh* ieli es 
aueli iM'stininit ^enu^ p'sehen, dass er nieitt die entfenitestc 
Kenntniss des Spinoxa und seiner IMiilosopiiie, oder aueli nur 
Feines Li'Im'us liatle ; danials al»er niaelite es einen jrrossen, 
ller/.-^ewinnenden Kiiulruek auf niieh, einen ^tren^'';rliiul)i<;en 
cdirisllielien THMlipiT niit so vieler Anerkmnunjr von Spinoza 
}<pn*elien zii lion*n. Hie und da selieint er ifuless sejion in 
jenen Zeiten sieli von diT lielnitsanikeit, <lie er so selir eulti- 
rirt, entfernt zu haln^n ; d<*nn wiilirend er nt»eh IVediper und 
HelipionslebnT am Friedriehskol)e;^iuni war, ist <M*ne Tnter- 
hueliun^ pepen ilm wejjen srini's Seh«>nlierrianisnius und 
wep'U uiip'zieniend veriiehtli<*her Aeusserunjren von der 
Kanzi'l her iilwr die Wissensehaften und iliro Ueslrehunjren 
oinpeleitet worclen. d<H'h uhne naelitheili^en Krfoljf fiir ilui. 

liaid darauf traf ilin s(»pij* unter niehreren Kandidaten zu 
rincr Adjunetenstelle eines l>inkonats an der hiesipren AltstUd- 
ti}«'hen Kirehc die Wald. In dicser prossen Kirclie wueliA 
nneh dio Zahl stMuer Zuhorer, ohnc dass ini Allp'nieincn die 
offentlieho Appn»hension wepen seines Zusammenhan^es niit 
8chonherr sich venninderte. l)ies ^eseliah im Jahre ISlCi, 
und im darauf fol^Miden Jahn* nuu'hte er in (lesellsehaft 
Srhonhorr*H und eines I^aekfabrikanten Clemens eine Ueiso 
naeh deni mirdliehen ]>eutsehhind, wie es schien, auf Sehon- 
berrV Autrich, uqi nachzufur&chcn, ob uicht weitcrc Ycriiin- 

riuii)ii-ii Riir Vfrlin-iuuijr i1.t Krki-iiiiuiUM .I.t WuiirlH-it 
knit|tft'ii M-it'ii. I>;.'M li.-l nul.l triiiiN iTr.>l;;l>iM nus. fiji 
oIht wur tlii'M- ItfiM- <'rt'.il;;- iitxl i;>lp'Tirx->i'li. lU\ 
tM'lih-sirti I.Tin>- <T >li<- liniliii v. >l. <;n;iHti k.miri 
Ix'ltlHU'li' hi.' v.iii iln ximiik lii.-rlx-r in ilir irii.didirH 
xiim >liiiiiiilip-ii l,iitt<lli»ritii-iMi'r uikI <llHTi>rri)>iilt-iil 
AiiiTMWiilil. Vim •lit-'iT oii-pxi-ii'tiiii'ii-ii, H.'lir Ih-i; 
Hiiiiii' wcr<lc icli iiiiclihiT inllur H|in'rli(>ii iiiukm-ii. 
': ..lit«-ili<- V.Tliiixliiii).' mil <IJ<-s.r 

■ VMl 




iiur I 



• nl^ ilir. 


: Mi'ist 


ll'll'illllUtllC iluiii 

>ii>rk>-. i1h?4 liat p 
Ii >«'linrrlichcii Ki 

lii'lir lli-liumllllFiK 

rfiiiiK uiiUT KUl 

iii.-lit « 



nrii'rknriiil ; liicnliifi'h, (wp* 

iiml xwur iiiii tt\s In'muiiIviv I'ithuii, i 

■n •liirri', ^ii'li f:.-ltciiil xu ijiudirii, xii wi 

ihi) uIh (lii'iiu i*i^r.-<ot) zu i/rkunm-i) uiid an 

on ji'iliicli wifil weili^r iluR Nulim ui 

H'ijii-ui ituMiiiiiiiii'iilinn);(! mil)rcllii;ill ufniun. llinrJMt n 

Ih- rkcii. (lai's liic-r fin Kim^-lKiill in ilii^ fcunu Kntwicl 

KU-l'rt utxl Miner niitUl- unil unniil tell wren WirksB, 

Dill nfulisl.' Wirkiinir hIht Milllr »icli rfn.lurcli Ik 
KIk'ii (lies.- Oninn v. .1. (in'U-ii Imltc ilircti Miinii, j.missi 
Lii'Utcnont, In ili-r Si-lilni-lil Ih-i Cr. (i <>.->(' I ion (wcnn idi 
irn-) dnwl) di-ri Tud tu viTliinn ilin li.ri-n Sclinivri trfa 
John; lung niHili liinj; hEu ilicsr'ni Stlinicrat.-, wii* rx » 
iiiit r>'r^U-r KntsHilii-fii'ntiK uml in i-incr unV Mt'lundni: 
KrfiiuiTHirn WiiM- mull. Wit; war JilM'r]inii{it in fni 
/('it roiiiiuiiix'lii'iii mill )iliiinliintitM;li4<m Wi-h'ii xi'lirxu^i' 
utiil in ilii-,-ri- An «iinlf mm nutli ilii! Truii^r za i 
Kultiin, iliT riiiiiiiriii^di-iilinntiiNliM'li von iltr uusgi^iilit h 
lliro gunxi! cilli' Fiimilii- war in iIit frnwi'i.'ri tinrfic Tiii 
uin »k, vcnuiN-liir iiIht xii k.-iiii'nt riNiliTtiilon Kinllinu" 
niu Ell fTi'lnnp-N. Itiiv-i' Kniii iiiiii fnlii-K- jftii Klirl ii 
Kruin liiT lliri^riTi ziirm-k, iiIh-i" uI.'^ lu-m-, kaiini ki'Uii 
Pcnton, liciu-r, rMft. liiiiKi'tH-iiil. (lii-iliKliniL-ml uuil 
a1Ii< ItiiiiiuiitiL ulini' l'liiuitnr>tfivi, M.'ltciiil)ar nuliirlii.-li 


Pio Eltern, cntzfirkt iinil iihorrnpclit diirrh ilioso Vrrrnide- 
runp, fiililtfii sirh /iiiii jrrdsslon I>nnkep»p'n KIm-I v«»rpllirhtft ; 
cirnii von iliiii, so snirto sie srlbst, liiitto kI*? Tnwl, IUilu», 
IIcitiTkrit c'liipfuiijrm, iiii«l zwar el)«»n dun*li si'iiir rolij^io?>o 
Bidohnin^. In (l<'r Kainilio von AuiTswaUl fund dii>s inn 
so •^rossrrrn Anklaii^, als sio innner eincn rclipi sm Znj; 
l(«dial)t und lM>\valirt \\fi\U\ und dio Sadie wurd*^ Imid %u 
eiiier pMurinsanion dor liidirn'n raniilimkreiHo di«*ser Stadt. 
KUd \vurd«^ v'xw (f«'p'nsland ihrcr iM'sondon^n Uolrai*litnn«;, 
l*«*riH'ksirIiti<:nn«; und v«>r Allrni diT ^('sprcrhnng. Iti.s 
ilaliin war dcr niilirr«> Tni^^an^ krin andorcr als dc*r mil den 
FnMind«*n Srlii'itdMM*r*M, dicso al»«*r lM*standrn ans oinipMi 
lfand\v<*rksl(Mit«'n, nirstcl. (trafvon KaniU, und aun Ihinirn, 
lN*HondorH drni Fninli'in von hcrscluin, d«'ron hpator inilH'n; 
Krwalinunj; ^t'srlndien innsH. Nnn trat KUd aln^r in 
niannij^faclKTo Krrisi*, und vorxii^lich in den der li«>lieren 
Stande eiii. Vielen violleirhl wiire dies lieh und erfreulieh 
irewoson, Nieniandeni aU'r so seiir, al:^ eineni Manne wie 
Kind — oInmi ilim sellist. Seine p*lieiniHten und inni};sten 
AViinsehe jrin.iren vor seinen Au^ren in Krnillun^; er errrjjle 
Anfnierksanikeit, er emplin^ IJrweise per^onlieher An«'r- 
kennun^, und sein jjrosstrs, auspdiildetstoR Talent, die 
ge^ellsrhaftliehe («es<>)iineidi<rkeit. konnte sieh nun )^lan%end 
cnt fatten und neue Triuinphe liereiten. Die Fran v. d. 
(f riilien iN'jrann alM^r Ho<rleieii ilire p*ossle Thati^keit fiir ihn ; 
von sidneu) Loi»e, von aniN'tender Kewunderuni; seiner (liite, 
Liebeund FroninugkeitiiherstnJnitenun in den lH'gei8tertsl«'n 
Ausdriieken ilir Mund. und <IoeIi AlleH in einerWeise, wie es 
cdner jrebildeten und mil alien Vorzii^en ilires hiiheren Standee 
nus^TiistetcMi Frau fi^ezienieiul war, oline irjjend Verdaeht 
rrre^*n zu konnen. Wa.s war nun natiirlielier, alrt dass 
xunaehst Frauen, namentlieh aus {\vn liefnunideten adlifren 
Kreis(*n, zu F^lnd zunfiehst in seine Kirehe, dann aueh in sein 
llauH ^fiihrt. wurden ? In deni Maasse, als sieh nun ein 
nalierer un<l der Art naeh peMldeter Knds uni Kind versani- 
nielte, in denisellHMi Maasse hildete sieh aindi eirdpe Spainnin^ 
zwisehen dieseni und deni (M^^entlieh Seliordierrisehen Kri'ise; 
denn seine Danien konnte Khel doeh nielit zu Selionherr 
fnhren, uni dessen AIkmuIs hepmnenen und <»ft j?i»>ren Morten 
erst sieh cndemien Vortnlpen heizuwohnen ; aueh konnte er 
Kio der dort herrsehenden ]>iseiplin nieht unterwerfen ; denn 
etwas strcngc scheint diese bid Sehonherr allerdings gewcscn 
WM «»in, wenigstens war sie nieht so liesehaflfen, wie nian sio 
fur juDgo, fein gcbildcto Damen gceignct baitcn kann. Auf 


VMTinr.nK ix ho.v/asnmui. 

R-'>m- A riL.I /.•! Inillvn, rii1.ll<- S.').iiMlt<Tr a\* VnnkW 

li.T.-.'l.ii>ri, Fc'ilivii.ilii-rr AtKlcn-iip-xtiilt'-h-.lx 
l.-li-lirii .Uiriii. .1...^ "i.-, fc!l.-i.-liriill» imwrWHlilIf, i 
Al...k;.l>|...- I1I..I .ni.l.r.-.i li>Ui-.u S.-|.rin.-M MoM iH-ft'ii 

I'lr- -11. liiti uiiii wiiilcr liniffiii Ki(is|tnii'lt iltim. oiiH 

(ill.' Imlk' Nai'lit I>imlun-)> uiit ilim mIW uikI imti-n'iii 
lK-rii;rxitnkfn tliirn.ii, wuriiuf i.i(li lUiin ulk:r Alli-swk 
'Ufi nllo SiilHinliiiuliuiiF<vi-rliulliiifU4 uitirii;r<'n iiium'Ii-, 

So wi-iiifrMfiii' iM i-a iiiir in »)iutvn-ii Jnlin-ii — lifiiii idi 
liHhf t<rliiiiilli-rr'x Srlinillv iiiu Ix-trt'tcn — i-oii Mil^l 
jrtu'r* Kn-iiM" i-rnMt wonlL-ti. Twfvr uIht Iii;i n.H'h t 
il<-n-r <iriiii<l xniu /.•nviirriii>« xni^cli.n KImI uikI Sili.'i 
]'>sti'r<T xnli Kii'h Hllmiilili); in liic |;utirtliKu liu^c v>- 
H-lliht UUtIihiiiiI M-iii lu kiiiiiK-ii. uitil fim-:< uum c 
fJliiili-rn, ji-ili'iiruliri nils niipMliuiii'n-n uiiil mi^'ni'li 
I-<'r>.«i<i'ii Ix'-Llx-ii'liri Kn-isi'M; in ilii-s.-iii wiinto 
Vrn-hniiii.', I'nUTw.'rriitifr. ju Aiiln^iiiiid <'iilp-;rcii(r>'ln 

ilnrt Milll.' rr tin i :* f\ ii)iilli>t win. imil iinliT ni-l 

D.I M>llt<- (T iK'U'11 i-iiiiiii llnnilfU'liitliinacliiT, KujtfiTM'] 
I.iK'kfubriknnifn. ViL'lualii'iihiinillcr it. x. w. §itzcD uti< 
mil ilii'urn, inwcili'ii vnn i1icK-ii ausxclipllcn Insiu'n ; den 
Stunili'KVcn'chii'ilfnli''il li-pt KIh-I vlnvn lH'.-«^n<1vn-n V 
in (>]>ritrr('n ■lalirt'n hiirtu icli B«-ll)i*t tiiit Mi-hivrcn v<ii 
SD^ii-n; I'liristuM Iiii1m> cm DclilimniiT als rr tn'ltalit, del 
uiit iinf,i')iili)<-tcn I.i-uli'ii iIiT uutcrsli'ii Vulkr-klasw iini 
niii^M'n, cr iiImt linliu (tnifcn. (irrillnm'n n. ii. w. ma 
Auf Hiilflic Wi-isi' mill nils folrlicn (iriinilt-n hiiurtoi 
ili'tin iiiiiiKT ilii- l!i-i1iii<i-^siiiiiim'iil<', liiit ondlirh ini Jalin 
Ktii'l sii'li viiri SrhiJiilnTr viilli^- livtintt, dir ln'itk-n Vomi 
jciiL-M Kri'iM'.~. ili'ii llnil'i'ii voii KiLiiits und dau t'rault^i 
J)<-[><liuii niit ^irli iicIiiiii'IkI, wic nie iniuicr gum Imm 
wiiii'L' I'tTKon unffi-Hclil'iesun wnrt-n. 

Nun rin? K>ii'l nil (r<'K>''t Scli<iiiii(-iT zii [irpili|ri^n < 
pcrNiiiilii'bcn Aiifrlrfrcniiriti-n, iVw er fiir identixch mil 
(iottcH liirlt, wunlcn allc '/.k\1 vuii tlrr Kanxi-I her i 
cli<n huHKli(.'li(.'n Zurtiiniiiiiriikiiiifti-n vcrhanilclt, init 
VnlrriH-liiGdo nur, dni'i' in ilcr Kircho dio Hognnn 
drnussrn Stphi"nili'n iiiclit rrclit nirrken knnntrn, won 
P"lio. wiT fr<-Bii<')iti^t, nor jrepuiiwolt wnni)- NicliU 
fri'Kcn M.'inG Lflirc, dieiw wiinlv viclmchr iliirchauH I 
hiillcn und imiiu-r mchr nach ihrcr gnnBcii alH-nu-wrl 
(inindlnfrr- nus;r<'liil<lot — •licr jn-jn^n wiiirn Burt (ei 
fini'M pchr Innirrn iiiiil in lUr Tliat Ktliiincn), (ti'f^n > 
IWk (diTpini-n eijronon Srhnitt, fi'me i-igvno ZuHaiiuntriifi 


liattc, wio tlios Srlionliorr ols sciiirr jurist ip^oii Wiirdc fiir 
anp*iiirHson iiiitl notiiweiuli^ rrforsclit lititto), p'^oii <lio 
SomliTliiirkcMtiMi hciiicr iiii.-'soivri Kr.schtMiiuii}; iiUrriiaiiiit, 
al)er audi ^c^^oii t^cint* lIciTM-lisuciit, Uii(liil(lsunik«Mt, llefti^- 
kcit u. r<. w. Dns Ui'idi war nun jcdcnfulls ^othcilt, die 
Partcien stnndm sich ffindlich fri'^^oiuilKT, (tcturiiisauies 
hatten sie nur niu LciirsysttMn ; wo dImt die Kraft uiid die 
Mu^lielikeit eincs ausseren (jelin^i'iis jjesctzt war, koniito 
nicht frexweifcit Wi'rd<Mi. Ihi/.u kunniil uocb, dusts Sclionlierr 
cin vk*l %u >;ra<l>itinip*r, aufrirliti^rr und ini ^aiizen zu iiulilcr 
Munii war, uin sich irpMid utiedlcr Mittol fiir soinc Zwocke 
zu bedicMien ; ulliuaidi;? Del Alios vou ihiu ah, his auf ihn 
fH*llier; dciiii or iM'harrle Ik;! sich his aii\s Elide, ja iiii 
TtMh^suioiueiite versichertc cr fost: ihn kiinne der Icihiiciie 
si) wcMiij; als der ^eislij^e Tml trcflfen, er hci ja der Menseli 
ffcwordciu* Paruklct, cr werde nur unikh*idct, nicht entk1eid«'t. 

KIn*! uInt richtcto sein Kcich nun nnt vieler Kiu<^hcit ein; 
xuvortlerst iH'Uierktc er schr richtij?, dass, uni Zwist untl 
ZiTwiirfniss zu vernieiden, Nichts von vurnehercin wirksanier 
F4*in k<innc, als keinen Wldcrspruch aufkomnien zu lasscn. 
Und dies war anfan<?lich uni so leichter zu erreiehen, da der 
KaMs ausserden Oanien, die zu keincni Widcrspruch, sondcrn 
nur zur inni^stcn Anhiin^lichkeit fiir Khel gestinnnt waren, 
nur aus Kanitz hcstand, wenn man nandich von den niiher 
Unterriehti'ten der ei^entliciien Verhaltnisso sprechen soil. 
Kanitz ist alier seiner ganzen Nulur nach zu Nichts so sehr 
gecignet, als zu einem Anhanger, da man nicht wcniger 
8clbststtindig sein kann, als er es ehen ist. Uelwrdics war 
Anfangs A lies voller Liehlichkeit und Freundlichkeit, und 
wo cinmal die Lehre als Unantusthares, Unzwx'ifelhaftes 
feststand, zu einem Widerspruche nicht leicht einc Veranlas- 
8ung. Ks musste nun al)er festgestellt werden, wer denn die 
Perfton des KImjI st'l, d. h., welche Stelle er im Geisterreiehe, 
ini Univcrsum, also nothwcndig zunachst im Keiche Gottcs 
einnehme. Dass es eine der hiichsten sein miissc, verstnnd 
Hich von selhst un<l aus der ganziui Lehre ; Kl>el selhst sagte: 
wio Bollte ieh denn wisscn, wio die Welt gesehaiTcn ist, wenn 
jch niebt dal>ei gegenwiirtig gewesen wiire ? 

I>a er nun jcnes wussto, so konntc cs aueh an diesem nicht 
gefeblt baben. Es lag no he, dass er eine Person aus der 
Trinitiit 8eiD miisste; der Vatcr aber konntc er nicht sein ; 
denn der bleibt ewig in sich selbst verborgen, er ist ja iibri- 
gcD8 aucb daa ersto Urwesen (Feucr), das in keinc Umbildung 
seiner selbst eingehen kiinne; einen Paraklet gab es schon, 

I'MTIUKnt: IX KO.VtCS/tKh'f!. 

niT llffliimiiiiii;; 

ulliTllillffi', iilHT'lcrikl 

IiiimhIi-. iIkmk rr nidi wiikt \Vi 

kiiiih ji> nr.iil ii.H'l iki'lin'ii. 

n'H'ti.1,,-, fliriliii Ih'I.'ii. uM«n 

1 lil 

1 knmk.. 


.1., xiii.ilxifii 


iiillt'U ui«l lii'l-'uiih (■> k»i 
\w anih-Tf M-iii uIk ilk' <'l>r 
nm-ixt <lii:i Frr>tt]<-ia von D.-rx' 
tniic'lilxr (ii-ulih von Kaiiitx) ; iiiit frr 1 1< I !},-•' r /ii-tiiiii<i 

^Irt iiiiuiiltfUinr ■■viili-iil wiinli^ i-h niir)(i'ii<iiiniirti v Iit t 

(Inilin V'ln ilrr Un'ilici); von Kiiitiu wnr ki-iii WJiIitkih 
XII rrwnrtpn. Nnc-kl unil iinumwuiiili-ii wunk- ilii-ri ii» 
iiii'lit AlU-n iiU!<p'si)r>H:li(:ii, i-* liksa iiiir: KIh-I wi 
l!.|.ril>.nhi»l .1.S lU-iii^Tu iiii'l Ilfiiipn im riiivcwim, n 
ilrrvnllk»Mii,M',>,'M.'i>s<-|i.,ii..| nviirs<-i<tM-flM-iiic 11.^110 N>i 
III .Uv~.n V. rliiill.'»<l.'n .\i>-.1ru<'k<'ii j<-<l.K-Ii li<-r;t iii.-l.t 
ji'iK' l!>'-liii>[>iiiri<;. ilii^ri KIk'I iK'iiiilii'li tkT zu niiM-n-r 
iTio'liii-mrm ('iirinliM M-i. houikrn iuk'Ii mclir riiifn-M'liu 
ilnsM IT iliT hiiluT iiu><t;i<l>ilik>u>, volloiiikltt ChnMuH 
Ilicnnit oIkt vcrhiill «■« uk-li iliT I-i-liri- nncli so: dcr »i; 
cnvliiciirnc Chrit<tiirt Kci nur Xiim Thi'il MriiM-li |^>>v»r 
r (loliurt narli nriiiilich bus iIit Msiriit, hIht von ki'i 
Munifdii'U ci-KCU|rt-, dn alx-r dor UattoKRohn niicli vollli 
nu-ncr Munm:liciiMuhn wurtlen iiiuxx, lu} uiii*>tf cin C'briHtuH 
1 Mviisi-LrniHinrc gi'icujit wt'nivii ; ilicMcr (>cz('U;r|r t 
iDunx, WOM iliin-h din mi'mwlilirlic 7A.-ugunK ilim Siiiidlir 
an- iinil cinm'liorrn int. von nii-li nlisln-ili-ii. und Iiimi )>ci 
CM dcr lliiiro, licit Ik^iMtiimtcM mid ilur Kruft aun ili-m i 
iiiclit vollkDiiiiiifiii'U, nlivr ir<-kn-ii/.i);'cii ■>">! VLTHJitinci 
('lirNliii'. Hnl iiiiii diT iiciR- i'liriHlun i*h ilaliiii p'lirn 
dkiu' m'iiK- iiciir Xntiir nii/ii]ii<'li>'ii, wo id t-r diT rciiii- 
lii-ilifTi' und v-illkoinnient- Muiisih. Kr ilurf uIht jn n 
wk'diTVun A iireclilunKt.'M RUi" dur nlluii Nolur nicli lieitlrii 
Und bk-riiluT wtehtun in ik-r That iiiit dor uunM-r: 
Sorgrult die bridi-n nt'nanoten Paincn iilwr EUd. Hi 
niinilic-li lirliaii|)lcto imiiiiT, si'ina nlto Nnliir IwHtniido in 
UmtR-lirrWil ili-M (lon'JilliM, 1Tiiit<ru'iirli;rkdt ii. a. w. Vi 


•liirfu' vT ihiiiii, \v«*nn or soine nnio Natur l»<'li:iii|it<*ii snllU», 
hirli iiur Ills f(>st, lN>s!iiiiiiit immI aIh ll«Tr /rip'ii. IJiiil in 
\Valirln*Ii,rr jfrwaiiii liirriii v\\\o jjrossr l''«'rli^:k<'it ! Was or 
nun uuf i\'\v>v \Vris«* llnit. <las war vhvw, \\v\\ oh in diosor 
\Voi>o p'srliali, al>o aiis «irr niMU'n Natnr, ivin und Holig 
N<N'li rino nndrn* Fra^^o «ianili(T /.u lliun, oinon undoron 
I'liiTstoin %u p'hrauolion, war sflileciitliin unstatthaft, woil 
I's rin innoriT Widorsprnoh puwosfn ware ; wo solllo donn oin 
Kritorinni iilKT dart lleilige und Ueino bicrauH horgonommon 
wonion 't 

Hino andiMV l«Vago nl»or i.'^t dii\ was donn nun dio Aufgalio 
dicM'.'4 KriniMi und lloiligon in dor That Koi, was cr thun, 
wiMlnn-h or H*ino pittliolio Natur vulUiolion, dio^e 8ollirtt 
)M>wiilinMi Hollo. Aiior dion ist viohnolir gar koine Frago: 
wa> konnto dor Koino und Iloiligo Andoron tliun, uIh roinigon 
und lioiligon'/ und was konnto soino Sondung Hinnt lH*wahivn 
als Hoinigung nnd lli'iligung? Tnd ohonso wonig kann es, 
w<'nn man nnr dio (irundlago dos Lolirhvslonis, das« ja die 
Krkonntniss dor Wahrhoit nollist ist, konnt, xweifelliaft 
liloilK'n. wololios das nin^listo Tlinn. das wioliiigsto Ooschfift 
tliosor Forson M-in nnisso. AlU*s FoIm'I ist ja in die Welt 
g<*knninion lodiglioh daduroli, dass dor Toufol das zwoite 
(woildiolie) Urwoson, Finslorniss, Wassor, vorfiilirt, von den 
Kinniiss4*n dos orsion Frwosons abgow«Midot hat; (donn 
woJuT i\vT Toufol solhst gokoninion, was ihn verfiihrle, 
danarh fragt koin Monseh, odor os wird ihni goantwortot : 
dor lloohinuth ; nus sioh soUist niussto goantwortot worden, 
wonn goantwortot wordon sollto ; ahor nnin hcdcnke, was 
dafin liogt : aus sioh selhst !) Alios Uohol also dureh die 
Vcrnihrung dos woihliohon «luroh oinon touHisohon EinHuss 
dos mannliohon, alio Uotlnng also dureh Uoinigung und 
lloiligung dos Woihliohon, durch oinon gottliohon n)annlichcn 
KinflusK. Hiornaoh nun vorstand sioh oU'n nach deni 
liohrsystonio Violos, was «lie Ausfiihrnng anhingt, von Holhst. 
/uvordorsi konnto os nioht dio Moinung soin, dass Kl)el aid 
<lio iK'stininito Forson dos Hoiligon und Roinon allc Frauon- 
zinnnor golhst hoiligon und riMuigon kann, son«Iorn nur die 
woihliohon Hanptnaturon ; dioso aln^r waron nioht fern zu 
Huohon; cs waren natiirlioh diojonigen, dit* sioh zu ihni 
gofundon und ini Laufo dor Zoit 8ioh uni ihn vorsanimolt 
hat ton. l)n*i horvorragondo woibliche Weson. die el>cn als 
8olche Iwtrachtot wurdon. wolohe Kchloohthin zu El>ol gehiirten, 
wan*n ahor in diosor llinsioht lM's(»nder8 zu beruckrtichtigcn, 
da Me alrt Hanptnaturon die Wirkung weitcr tragcn soliten; 

rMTiUEnK AV K ON las HERO, 411 

t's wnrtMi ilirs tlir Frau v. d. GrOU^n, Koinc Frau ills Lii-lil- 
nutur; Fnnilviii Kmiru* voii SclirMltcr, t^uw Frau ul'^ Fin- 
Hlrrnittsiititiir ; uikI K4*iiu' an^t'tnnitr Frnii, \vc]«*lit* die Urn- 
fuhsunj; (viii Ausdrurk, drr viol U^dcutou, iind oft aus dcr 
tit>f?>u>ii N«>tli tli*r Ur^ril1^lo>igkcit liflfiMi iiiusMi*) shmii tH>Ute. 
Au^:s^rd^lll \viird<*ii iiiiii nocli virl«* aiidrn' wriMicho \\Vh% 
insofmi hie drr l»ostiiiiniti'n Ileili^iin*; uiid Keiiiigun^ 
iMMiiirften, nirlit ab«;e\vies4*ii, aiirli da/.u anp*lialt(*n, wiu 
(dM*ii die verslnrU*iie (jniliii vuii Kanit/. (fridier Friinleiii v. 
Derseliaii), Maria CoiisiMitiiiH mid iiielit \veni«ro Aiideri'. 
S«Mlanii war en aiieli einltMhditeiid, wit* diese Aete dcr liri* 
li^iiii}; iiiid KiMiii^iiii)^ 7.11 V(»Ill»rititreii heieii: cs iiiiisMe uiif 
urweMMiliielie Weise. aU*r von drni Uriiioii utid ll<-ilip'n 
iiiid an eiiirr iiaeli der IUMiii};iiii;r mid llrilif^iiii^ Veriaiijreih 
dell }res<*lielieii. Uie iirwei^eiitiielie Weise iiIrt ifit die p> 
sclileeiitlielie, das lleinigeiide ist das fn*ie mid klare lU*- 
wiisstsein. Die Arte niussten also ficcsrlderhtlielie l»«*7.ieliiiii^ 
iialKMi, mid en iinisste dalNM p'n»det wenleii ; deiiii da^ isl 
Ik'WusHtHein. Das (it^seiileelitlieiie uImt darf iiieht Ids xur 
Zeu^^uii)^ ^etriebeii werdeii; demi nielit diese xuiiaelist, soii- 
dern die Uehmif; iiii Urweseiitlirlien aiif mne mid reiiii>;nitic 
Weisft war die Absiciit. Also nur his ziir Zeiij^iin^ hiii. — 
Sotlaiin U^^riflf es sieli aiich, dass die^e Aete nur niit 
deiijetiip'n l^anien vorgenoiiiiiuMi werdeii koniiten, die nielit 
hloss erst iiiiterrieht(*t mid ein^reweilit warm. soiid(*ni Me 
iiiu>s1eii aueii ilire Stindeii und iiaiiienilich in l>e/Jeliunir auf 
p'srideclitlieJK^ Nei^unpMi, Versiichuiigen ii. s. w. lH*kaiitit, 
und auf alle \Veis<* sieh als mitergelnMi, wiliijc und aldianpi; 
iMiwiesen IuiIkmi. Kndlich aUer war es aueh einsielitlieii, 
dass die Actc niclil mil weildieheii IVrsoiien vurf^enoninien 
wcrden konnten und durften, die el>en in weiblielier, d. Ii. in 
gcseldeeiitlielier ISezieliun)? keiner Zurechtstellunfc iHMlurfken, 
weil sie elK*ii in p'sehleehtlirher Kiieksielit nielit nielir 
Frauen waren, also weder mil aU<Mi noeli mil iill lichen. Mit 
(«ol(*hen wiirde der^leiehen nielit nur nieht jrethan, sondeni 
dariilM^r k<'K<-1) sie vollkoinnienes (ieheininiss heuhaelitet, weil 
810 es ni<'lit wiird<Mi verstehcii k«iniien. 

Bei der AufpilN*, die ieli inir liier jrestellt halw, eine stdir 
vcrwickelle und vrrw«>rrcne Saelie in ihren |>sycholo;fiseiicn 
Moinenten nachzuweisiMi, war der eljea erortertc Tunkl der- 
jcnigc, den in's Wort 7m fassen niieb die grosste TelM^r- 
windung gekostet hat; deiin ekelliaft und widerwartig iader 
Krscheinung, graiiellmft deiii Wesen nach, allcr Vernmift uiid 
nnvenserrlem nattirlieheni Gefuhl cniporund, int dieser Vor- 


paiifT <1«'iin(H-h. wns die Kraiion nnlnn^t, niclit iiur niclit ihih 
suii«ili«*li4*iit (irisriilicliciii (irliistr, ja ni<'hl iiiir aiis iruUM* iiiul 
rroiniiHT Alisirlit liorvor^c^aii^Mi, hunilrrn (uml dirs ist 
iiirinr iinicrHlc, aiif fr<*iiaur Ki'iiiitiiiss <lrr IVrrioncn f^of^riin- 
i\vW. Ui'lKTZiMijriiiijr) «'i!i«; Vrrirrunj^, in die iinodle \voil)lii*li« 
(irinittlMT ^ar nirhi p'ratlien koiiiKMi, soiidcrn elM}n lair v\\U\ 
hiM*lilM'pil)t«* iiiid %ur ^n»sst«Mi SeUistvoriiMirrnuiip^ dur<*Ii tiofo 
ll«4ijriosit:it fjlliijr p'wordono. Warn von Abwrij]:unfr diT 
Schiild di«t K(m1i*. k«iiiiite }ii«'rvon untcr Moiischrn u)M>rall die 
sriii. s<» iniisstr da> Nii'iilsrliiildi«r tilNT dio FraiUMi ^aiix iinlir- 
doiiklirii aiis;;('S)ii'oriirn wrrtiiMi ; drnii ziir ^robst<?ii Versiiii- 
di^iiii^r liaiKMi iiirlit mir die roiiistni Fadcii, soridcrii die 
«Ml<dslfii lU*«;uiipMi hiiigerrdirt, uiid Allrs \Ai iiii (iiTidd der 
»S«dhstverieu^iiunf^ uiii der Wulirlieit, iiiii Guttes willen 
p*s<*iH'heii. Und in der That konnte deni lliehter, der ein 
Urthi'il aiiHspreclien und deslialh aueli die Verhaltuisse 
innerlieh erkennen nui$«s, ni<*ht8 Storeiiden*8, nielitn Rein 
Vrtheil TriiUMideres liejre^^nen, als wenn iinn ein Uefiihl von 
Missaehtun); pepen die in Kede stehenden Frauen erwaehnen 
(iollte; notli\v<*ndip wiinle iInn liierniit sii^Irieli der rielitipe 
Kinbliek in das wahre Verlialtniss def«jenigen, was das Thun 
und was das Leiden, das Woilen un<l das Ilandein puwesen 
ist, sieli seldiessen, mier wenipstens verwirren und unsicher 
werden nuissen. leh kann alter n)it der freien Aussprache 
dieser nieiner Ueherzenjrunp nicht so verstanden, oder 
vielmelir so vollip nn'ssverstanden werden, als gediielite ieh 
dauiit eine Vertheidipunp in oltjectiver Hinsicht in I^eziehunp 
der Franen r.w iihernelinien, oder die Sehadlichkeit und 
Vertlerldielikeit eines solehen Verlnlltnisses irpend wie 
verklein«'rn zu woilen. Nieniand kann nielir ui>en&eupl sein, 
wie entarten*! und entartet dii'ses sei, an welelien Abgrund 
jene Frauen in der That pefidirt seicn. Das alter sapc ich, 
und von dessen Wahrheit durehdrinpend iil»erzeupt, dass in 
Hul>j«rtiver Bezieliunp die Frauen schuldlos sind, dass sio in 
ihreni Woilen und HestrelnMi zu den edien und verehrliehsteu 
ihres Uesehlechts pehiiivn. Ilinzufiipen aher muss ieh aueh 
und mit der pleiehen Festigkeit der auf die HjH»eiellste 
Personenkcnntniss U^prundelen Ueberzeupunp, dass es ein 
prossos (tliiek sei, ja, dass (j(»tt sehr zu danken 8ei, dass (*h 
nicht zu prrossen*n (iniueln, nicht zu den schrecklichsten 
llandluugen pekonnnen ist. 

I>enu CA unteriiept, kennt man cb(*n die Personen in ihrer 
pnnzen, wahnMi Kip(*nlhiindichkeit, nicht dem mindesten 
Zwelfel, da88 dioso Damen (namcatlich aber die Frau Ciriiiin 

VMruiEiiK IX KosiasuKua, 4 w 

von dor (■roU'ii, <lie iMlrlntr Natur vnn AlU'iU jvdo lInn«Uun};, 
iind jiiK'h die Sclunidrr tTn^pMHlMtrii xii voll/.irlHMi jr«»nnjrt 
m'in wiinlvii, Wfiiii KIk*1 mv ilnn*n rrnsilioh p«Uoto ; jsi, »*i«' 
wiinlrti OS init Fn'udfii tluiii, iiiui joil«' iiiiirn* Ur^uii); tltii!e- 
pMi Ills 8uiiilo, nirt VtT^'iioliun^ tU's IViifrls U'trarhton iin«l 
iM^M'^rrn. Wnn KIk'I ilmni 7.u vrr»*i*li\vi*ij?ni iiuf^cit*!*!, winl 
krinr IiHiiiisition uiul ki'itio Ti»rtiir ihiicii iilHT dio l/i|i)N*n 
Uriii^rn. Irli vrrkviin? niclit da^ lu»lic Maas.s doM FniintiMiiiiis, 
tlri* in dirsoii IVrsoiicii aiis^obildrt ist, icli viTkrnnr nirhl jhmiio 
SfliaiidiT orrrj^nulo, Allr» rATtriiinnirrii<1e Kraft, ii*Ii ainT- 
kniiir nlirr tiie iirHpriin^lirli eillcii Motive iiiul U'klnp* nwA 
tiefhtrrii llerzeii, dnnn imIIo lliiip'liiin^ ho r«eiir ilinMi \VAhn*n, 
wiirdi^^oiHlen und adrliiden (lep'ustaiid verfeldt liat. 

Nacli dienrr Z\viHi'lu*nlM*im'rkiiii^, die ich fiir notliwendi); 
hielt, und von der icIi wiinsriien nniss, <lass nie dt*ii Kieliter 
inneriieli nielit iiidteriilirt iassen ni<'H>iite, kann ieit. 7.iirrii*den, 
das WiderstndNMitiste des (tan/.m n1>^i*tlian xii lialM*n, in 
niciner nur^tellun^ fortfaliren. Wenn nun das Ntlrliste und 
\Vieiiti^}4to df*H JH^iiipMi und reinen Kind (man iil>erwinde mil 
]nir dm WidtTwillen p<*p'n<nese Identilixirun>r; denn sie ii«t, 
cIkmi Wenn die I>arstellunj^ so hilli^ und rielitijr nls niojrlieh 
voni Stamlpnnkte jener p*{relH'nen (irun<lverirruo^ nus}r<^ 
ninelit werden noil, ntdliwendi^) auf die Fraueri untl die 
Keini^ung der Krauen nis xweiten Trwesens. in dan eU^i dio 
Siinde ein^edrungen, ^erieiitt*! ist, wenn dieseK nur inieh er- 
tlieilter iielehrun^ u. s. w. dureli die iH'stinunten, Mufenweiho 
fortsciireitenden p'sehleelitlielien Arte his 7.ur Z«Mi^un^ litn 
p»sehehen kann, so entstelit die Kra;re: was hat erdenn nut 
den Mfinnern zu thnn? An sie — das ist die einfaelie Ant- 
wort — hat er die Lehre xu hrin^en, sie zu ennahnt*n, sie innc 
wenh'U zu hissen, dass sie nus deni zweiten verfiihrten Urwe- 
sen >;elioren sind und soniil die Siimh* suhstantiel) in sieh 
trajren, sie zu schellen, heflijr zu schehen, uImt nueh ihnen zu 
sciiineiehehi. sie zu ennuntern, und sio zu vcslipn*n, ^'vwti 
sic zu Ktwas zu gehrauehen sind, und da dies I^^tztcn^ ni^^- 
nials ini Voraus zu l>estininicn ist, so nur einstwciien zu fix- 
iron. Das am IJesten HerechneU* al)or hierkd war, dass er 
Helhst in (Ut That niit Mannorn sich am Wcni^ston zu thun 
luaehte, sontlcrn sie an die Frauen wi«»s, sic <liescMi zur Lei- 
tuny: ulHTjrah. Diese wurden zuvorderst als die (ien>rd«*rten 
InMraehtet, und da hiess es d(*nn : liie ^ilt es nieht Mann noch 
Frou, sondern nur christliehe Frfahrung und th*fe Krkennt- 
nisH ; wer hierin weiter ist, der kann deni Andern riilh«*n, ihn 
weibcn und leiten, und cci ist dcbbcn Pliicbt, wcnu c^ ihiu uiu 

411 DARSTELLfXi: I) EH r/irnsrfsc/iEX 

wnlm's riiri^tcnthmn zu thiin ist, sich jonrni iintrrznordiien, 
t^*i «»s Mnnii oiliT Frnii. Vdii iloin (Jrliotr inid Vrrholo: 
^.intf'ot mnlirr in ercli'xia,^^ kotinto \\\vv whon ilfsluilh iiirht 
flit* IU*(Je HiMii, Weil nirlit Mos niiiir FriiiKMi iiirr koint* Kircho 
jr«'\v«*s4»n \van\ soiidorn in WnlirluMt clirsc Kirelio niir von 
Fraiien j^flcitot wiinlo,«in jr^naii ;i:<Mioiiiini'n, KIh»1 s«'ll»st dns, 
was er ji^«»won!»'n, iiur diin'li llinp'hiinjr mul Bi'stiiiinnin^ d«T 
Fraiien jr<'Word<-n ist, freilirli in j;an/. nndon-r Art un<l 
als Ih*! (l«>n iil»ripM). 

\tm ilrr IVnxis, di<» nnrli nnil nnHi in dirseni Kroiso ans- 
ir«**»ildi't und nh'tlitidisch str«Mijr<? irrhandliubt wordon ist, wird 
»^l>iitor zusanimonln'in«r<*nd ^osproclH^n wrrdrn ; hior konnnt 
OS nur daniuf an, naclizuwriscn, was nus dcr Woisunj^ d<»r 
MuMn«*r an dio Frauen und durrli die* Unt<'rordnunj]f jenor 
iintor di(*sc (wovoii nur sidton und nur fiir ein%<'lne Momonto 
Ansnalmir (cnnaclit wurdo) rntstandrn und fiir Khrl und 
winr ZwiM'kf^ prw«»nnrn wurd*\ Zunilflist inlinlirh war 
wold hirnlurfh am Hrstrn p'sorj^t, fiir dio Kiniihnn^ dcr 
iKM'listrn V<*rrlirnn^ und drs lirfstcn Uidiorsanis fiir die Per- 
son KIm'I's ; sodaiin alxT war vWw das. was an oinor sohdirn 
Sttdiun^r drr Mfinnrr zu i\v\\ Fraucn als V«M*krhrn?i^ ersohci- 
n<*n kann and vi*^ in drr That anrli ist, dio walirr Zurorlitstrl- 
lufijr fiir jonon Krris. Wrnn iMjlnnrr von Francn iihrr dio 
un«*ntwri('hliriist4!n Pndilrnirdrr l*liiloso|diir hohdirt wrrdrn 
K4»lit«'n. HI vrrstand «'s sirli ^Iricli v«>n srlhst, class die Man- 
nrr Ail«*s, was sic sons! dnrrli (irlrlirsanikiit, Forsclinnj?, 
ripH's Studinni wnsstrn und liattrn, lu^i Soito lir^en iasson 
niusstiMi ; dies sind ni<*iit WafTrn. di«* Frau(Mi res|>ortircn kiin- 
iirn, iM'sondrrs niHit lrlirrnd<' Franrn ; all drrjjU'ichcn viH- 
intdir niusst«' vorwrjc als vitlr Wrislu'it di*r vorlinsterton Welt, 
als p'lrlirtrr IMundcr wrj^jreseliohen srin und l)l<Ml)on. 

Ilirnnit war «lenn sojrieii-li AlU*s aus den TIs'inden frewun- 
d(*n, wiNlureli die Al»enteuer1iehkeit dej* zu l(*lirenden Lehrc 
Jiatte von vorn hei*ein zertriinmiert werden ko'nnon. Sodnnn 
wurde jene Art des Unterordnunprsverhiiltnisses fiir n<»ihi^ 
jrefunden, weil es das Ueci;rnetste ist zur Deuiiitlii^un^. diese 
\\\wT wlhst das Notliipste sei. Pass die Frauen da<lnreh hoeh- 
niiithi}? p'maeht wurden, war kein Einwand, da sie sehon 
demtithifr waren. Ferner wenn Mrinner Frauen Siindenbe- 
kenntnii^se in den naektesten, seliiirfsten Ausdriieken ahlejron 
Hollten, wenn dies wie natiirlirli vorziiplich id>er dir (irund- 
ven]«*rl»niHS, die jreseldeehtliehe freselielien nuisste, so stellto 
hirh dadureh no^leieli ein Verhiiltniss oin, das unnatiirlichsto 
au btch, und die Scham liuf alle Weic^e zerbturend hier zum 



iiut'irlii'lii-ii wiirilc, ilns Hh'ii, wiil cm nlliT Nnhir wiiU'i 

vU'ii ills >li'' i» Niiliir l«Krunilciul niip-si'lii-ii. p-l 

uul all.' W.'i-., K' r "il'-n niinl.-. .!.■ 

i\\'--y llih-irlil Ut..'. jv rliil'.lvl.ll.-1-.'l' AUMlnirhr M 



. i'.l 

. ;■„■ 

.■rr.>[:>r .li.> |-.,/utVi>.,l..i,liril iiii.l « t-in l\->\\y« 

Arp'ii, .-iJi ^l>l. I'l l.'lii mil .km 'iVufi'l, I.iiuh.'it. . 

knii iii>.l ts-.riii i."'<>->'iiii, i>h<l mjiJ 1h>miiii .los Ix-ni. 
iiiiilriiit.'i'iiil'-li- I'lTSM'ii niif iirnli'iv iiinl (^-Hiliiirfii-n- 1 Knm,-.. M.ld,.- li<Tv..r. HI wunii- c;..u v'.-|,ri. 
ill./. Il.iv. <'iii<-,i \ .TM-M-kii-d .-rw.idil linil.-. \V..| 

hll..T KllllO 



nil-Ill- Aiiil-'r.- ui.r:,.' ..U i.l).-pir;ilU ill.- ni.iiitti>.i.- xii 

iK'limi'ii iiml -■■ ;i.' ■ •-■! -I.ii hU »-irkli.-l»- SM Ih'U 

r>; Hiinl'ii ^i 1' L;.ir f>iini|i'ii |ini|>imirl. 

Iji>'iiii;;i'ji lull ' . i" lit' niiti nU lH')fnii).'i-ii : 

i.n wiiivii.— V\.„,^ -,.<,- ,.-! ,,- uiir — tUiwilurf ii-li 

llrm All''l-l'i'ili;.'Mrii wi>i.'liv|-ri — s.i iT(rnilH.'li ; ii'li li 

ili'i. i.m^illi.'h iiml M'lil-inil.'ll iH'kiilllll.dit'irli liir )* 

■lit- mil' /.ii Ix'k'-Mtini v.iii .ten (irMliiiiii-ii v. il. V.iMk-h 

KniiiU imri:.'-.','l.<'[i wiir<)<', kii .Inini >.i.' i»i<' dii' Ai 

ill .l.'Mi'ii hii' U-k:iiiiJl vv.Tilrii mii.v.|.',i. \\,<-\\> p'liani 

W.'iii. ii'lihir uidil ni'liurf )fi'iiii|;p'li'.<IT-'ii l.:ill.'. roir 

cm.'iiilii'I Ii!lI..'I1. t'jiUT wrl.'li.'i) l'm:.i.M>.l.-i. .|i<->- p 

Mi, »ir.| ".'ii.T unt.'U Ti.ili.T nnir.'v'.-lH-.i ^^<■y.\.■u. V 

Vvilnilnii.-il.T^'Uil (nniiir.'li iil..'.- p-km.,. 

^kliul-.'i, ;.'<'liiiii.|rT. m:ii> .liiiiiir.'!, wnlrii. w.Ocli.' U 

-l.r U.lT.-i'l,.m.i.'^l ili.'nlilirl, l.r;."-il'lil'l "-■lilr.l imi 

lii'ii.iif iu'lil piir ki'iii.-r KrwiiliitiiiiK. 



I- Moi 

Kill II. 

iil..'r l.i.-nii 
Nimlii'li k.ii 

,l,m-,' ^r,.|. 

I.ll'ilil'll, lklri!> Ui •'ilKT H>lrl..''l Sll'ltlllt^' lliT ITHIK'll 
Lrliivil .1,-s SvM.-llls illirl- lilr pM-lilri'llllirlll'll V.T 
uiiii l>.'i H.-r .MVHiimI.'. ilii'M' In ,Wr I.irl..- r.M n'iiii;C'' 
l„-ilip.'ii, !«■! <k-r v.VlKp.ii»M'iil,fil uII.t 
lii-!,.-t. S.-liiiink.-ii.l.-1-.SilU-imil i» Wiihrl..-il nm-h tlvt 
kvii, iK'i iIiT Fr.'ili>'it, ilioilii' llniiK'U iiii'lil I.Iiih ).'•' 
uml ^rfwiilirli'ii, fiiiiili'i'ii xiiiii Tlii'il Hu;;iir utiliiiicii um 
li.'i ill!.' (Inn, Wii- iiinii t'livcnwiiiiKl licit, Wrni'iihcil 
I'Viiinii iliT Kiii.k-r liiilti'i* ftiOiorig iiaiuilf— Ih-I 
•^"Kt- it'll, k"iiiilf (■■' iiii'lit aiiDlilfilM'ii, ilnss in Zr-iipi 
clioa uinn uidii ffiijualt wuiilt-, uiuii nk-bt vod iuau 


un«l VrnlriisH (dii* man alwr inni»r]icliHt vorsrlilosson linltcn 
iiiussir) xr(|iiiill wnr, iiii-lit Kc^iinpfcn iiiid Acussvrun^i'n ninn* 
lu'lirr l)r^i«*r<lv hirh cinstollon nolhcii, (Icnrii /.war<lir rhron<U 
hti'ti NuuHMi b<i;;elc'}^t wurdni, (iitMliulurcli nl>cr iiii'lit iiul'hor- 
ti*ii y.ii MMU. wns hiv flifii siiiil. Sr'hoii das iinuiifli.»rli(*lio 
Murkc KiiWcii uiid Uinnriiirn, iIuh \ix\\\\i uikI \i^vh\i war, die 
uii}r<*nirtt* Art dcr ki»r|H'rli(*lioii Anniilionin^^ nurh dn, wo \on 
p-srhiiTiillichoii lIolMinpMi ziir Iloili^rung kciiio Knlo war, 
huiidi*rii zii der ^cwohnliclK'n Art drs /usiiiiniii'nseiiis ^oliorto 
(tl«*nii ill (fop'iiwart ir^iMid vxiwa Frniidi'ii, drausHon ^U*l)en- 
drii trat das forinliciiHte uiid ^jcrliiliritc! C(T(*n)onicll cmii), 
M*lion dies k(mntc niolit V(*rf«*ldcn, jono Wirkiiii^: HinnlioluT 
Krrejriinff uuszuiilM'n, zitiiial virlr dcr Frauni luit violori Hri- 
jtni ill's Aouhsrn'U wir dcs (Ji'istrs aiisp'stnttet warm. Wvr 
flwtt fiajr«'ii w«»lll»\ <'s M'i iliin liivriii aiHJcrs iTfTunp'ii, von 
drill sriiciiit rs iiiir, «l:iss rr hirli Iu'liiji^*^ <mIit wniiifstiMis tilu- 
H'lic. Irli ^lanlN' iiirlit, dass os irf^cnd flniiandrn y:v\H\ drr 
di<* >r('W«»liiili<*iH'n ^iitti^<'n iiiid siUlit*li(Mi Srliraiikm als fiir 
HJt'li iilK'rlliissi); rrarlitrn diirflo. 

Das aiid(*rr Moment alirr ist dies; <ladiirr)i, dassdit^ Man- 
IHT dm Fraiini iilu'rwii'sni warm zur LiMtiin;: nml Hrlfh- 
riiiijr, Initto Khcl fiir sviiie IVr^on ilni Vortliril. iraiiz in d«;r 
KiiHrrnun^ hirilim %u konntMi, von jnlfm (^ontiicto froi zu 
hUiU'ii immI HolK'inbar cIkmi nur p'scliclirn xii lasscn. (itMiau- 
r?*lr Kiindo niusstc ilini ja dodi iilM-r Alios gejjclMMi wcnlon, 
nur l»l!rl» os ihm \w\ ilrr V<'rliandliin>rswoisr ganz Hvi j^rlas- 
wn, ol> iind wir vici dirrctm Antlu'il c*r an oinor Vrrhand- 
InnfT ncliiiHMi wollte. (icsiiiah «*s z. !(., dass nieh oinmal <liu 
Vrrliidtnisso <lrr prr.-onlirlKMi Vorlian<llun|; un^iinsti;; vrr- 
wirki'ln wollu*n,ilruldr rlwa rin Vorlust^so trat or mit iiln-r- 
hrliiitliMidrr l'Vrun<llirliki'it und LielikoHung ein, alio Ver- 
wirkoliiii}^ nc^rsrliiclu'nd, <l«*n pmzon (lo^onstand falltMi las- 
sond. und Alios in laulor LioMiolikrit und UiihrunjiC aiiflosond. 
Soliioii OS da^rop'n oin andoros Mai, dass oin vorstiirkter und 
htarkstor Anfrrifl* notliwoiidi;r t^oi, dann Kciiritt er zornvoll, 
lioftijr. auf's Aeussorsto orropt, mit llollenstrafen und Vor- 
danimun^C nni sioh sohloudornd oin. Mit oinoin Worte. er 
lialte diiroh dioso Anordnun;? am Honton fiirdaH prosor^t, wim 
wiiio l)owun<lornHwiinli^ auspobildetc Taktik ist, — das jior- 
Hinlirho Ho>orviii*n. (losoijolion niussto jn dooli iinmor, was 
ff wollto, und wio or wollto. Nooli nndore Vortlioilo ^orin- 
poriT, dtK'li iiiciit zii vorsolinialiondor Art orwuoliM'n ihm aus 
dio.Hcr Stellun^. 

Uni die Vcrbiuduug mit Miiuueru, uamcntlieb mit gelchrteo 

UMTUIEnK JX KihXiaSliEnU, 447 

o<lrr iilKTiill oiirJp:«'i»iUlci«»n untl uiit«»rnrliloton wi\r cs ihm 
i>i^ciitlirh i^clir zii tliun ; thrils >\*\\w (Induri'li mmu Kuf aU 
V riii^r uiitrrrit'litftrr, holilsrli wiirninuliT Maiim wir.rrU'pt wcr- 
tliMi. tlii'ils hollto (luivli hiu Slim* J^'liri' niit (li'lclirAamkrit 
uihI ^iitt'iii Aiim«Ihm» wtilil nptirl, iin«*li aussni p»tr«jr<*n wrnlou 
uiul vt'i'liivitft. Ilatleii ihiii iiiiii du* l>aiu«*n S4>lclie litnilc 
put zu^iTiflitet, *l. h. H), dass sir jroiirijrt M'irHMUMi, «h»n Inhall 
ihn'H \Viss«Mis aiir%ii«r('iii'n, iWv. Form alwr U'lzuhrhaUrii fur 
finen aiidcroii liiliali, tInmi die Si'lirinlu'rr-KU'lVrlu* \a'\\xk\ 
t»o warni >*io IkVIisI liraiiclihar. KIh-I srllist w«»llt«' ^lalur 
nirlit pTii p'jrrii (K'lolirsanik«»it aiikanipfrn. or wnlltc sic 
vit>linrlir ill IHrtist iirlniHMi. niirr tlit* DioiMT iiiiissttn iliiii 
lortij; p'lit'lrri wrnlcii. J», riiiis^r KltMiii*rk(Mh*n iiulini tT 
pli'irii iiiid iiiitliri'al>lassiiii)^ an. Kr luit Mrlirrrt's <lnickiMi 
lasst'ii, Pn*dijrl**ii ii. >*. w. ; Ikm inrhnMi iK^iiiidrii sifli lUila^^i'n, 
Kxours*', z. 15. rx«'|^eli.schc IkMnerkuii^rii uIkt StclkMi <lfs 
alltMi und iH'iicn Trstaiii(*nts; or vcrsudil ainif PcldiM'hIhiii 
Niriits vomlilrirciiisrhen, mid Jlrlmuscli kaniicr nieht le^Mi; 
cr •rrslallt't rs Aiidrrii.diosr p'lelirlen lkMm»rkuiiffi»uaii»*zuttr- 
luMtrn, vrrsti'lil sirii in sciitoni Sinn, und nio wurdon ftuf 
siMncn Nanirn prdruckt. KlH^n^o ist os mil Citaton aus l*iii- 
losopluMi, ncMierrn Schriftslfllorn, jii niit dcr Spraclit? K'li»st, 
die drm-kfaid^r %u niaclirn, innnor niclit unwvsontliclirr Ver- 
lK*ssfrungi*n iKMlurru*. Dioso wunini a*H*r lurisions von diMi 
Damon, namontlirh von dor (jnilin von dor (iroiion, diu oia 
niolit p>ringo.s Talonl zur 8pracliIiclioii Darrslollung in'siut, 

Tivlon nnn aus dioscn Vorhrdtnisson, Ansioldon nnd Vorfah- 
rungs woison gonug Hlomonto liorvor und zusamnion, die dtt.s 
ISodonkliciio nnd Vordorhliclio dos Ganzon hinn^iohond or« 
konnlmr maolion, po wurdo Alios n<K*li mohr vorsoiilimniort 
duroli dio vorkohrtosto Annioiit oinor an sich violloicht riMn 
biblisolion Loliro, dor vom Tonfol. Kh ist niclit nioino Auf- 
galic, iilKT diosi* lichro ein Urtlioil aiiHZUHprochen ; mirm^Hist 
»olioint hio in don Worlon dor Itiiud onthalton zu Hoin, icb 
woisK aiM*r audi, dass os wlir fruinino oliristliolie (loUos- 
gololirto, Uiliolglaubigo Tlieologon gogolxjn liai, dio dio liohrc 
vom Toufol niohi nur niclit mil dor Vornunft, Hondoni aiich 
iiiolit mil dor lioiligon Sohrift und dor Liobo («otto8 zii vcnti- 
nijron gowusst und dalior lioU'r don Toufol, aIh Vornunft, 
JSolirift und dio innijro Uol>onj<Migiing von dor Liobo (luttcH 
aufgogolii'n baben. ])(K*h wie (*s sioli dainit vorlmlton mag, so 
viol 8olieint jtHJonfallri gcnviss, dass os inimor oin l»edonkliclic*8 
^iobou t8t, wonn eiD Geistliclior furl und furl den Toufol 


citirt, mchr von ilim als von Christo spricht. GicM es rinrn 
Toiifrl nf>cli ji'tzt, untl ist er uniiicr no<*li, niich iiach (Ut Kr- 
schviniiii;^ Ci»rii*ti und ilcr wcitni Vrrbroitiinjr drs Christen- 
thuins HO f^'Iir niaciiti^, so wcnltMi MciisrluMi ilin wohl nicht 
iilKTwiiKlcn. un<l jcMlciifaliM isi's zwi'irclhaft, oh die stroii^cn 
Vertri'ler iliT Kxistonz des Toufels die iiini^Htcn Vorcliror 
und Dicnrr (^liristi sind. l>och niich dies kann liior ^anx 
dahin p*.strllt sein ; doiin KI>ol und diojeni^ren, die ihni folpMi, 
niaclicMi von dirsor Lelire rino Anwrndung oipeijer Art. 
Zwei Kijji^nscliaflrn d«^s 'lVuf«»ls 8<Men ca, <lio j^anz In'sondorH 
aiif^cfasst und U'riirksirliti^l worden niiissten: dass er listi;; 
und der Liijrner von Hans ans ist. Dnn'li List verfiilirte er 
das zweile Trwes**!!. dur«*li sie und dnreh seine liiij^on l>e- 
riiekt er ni»eli innner fort die Menselim und halt sie in der 
Finsterniss. Seid listijr wie die Seiilanp^en, war KIh)1\s Walil- 
sprneli und sein Lo^nn^swort ; denn von deni erkliirenden 
/nsatxe: „undo)ine Falsch wio die Tau)»en," davon durft*^ 
hei iiini, da es sieii von selbst verstand, nielit die Rede sein. 
Zu iM'lelinMi und zu lM*ssern ist der Teufel nii-ht, iiherlisten 
muss nutn ilin! Ihni Waltrheit entp'fi:ensteil(;n ist tliorieiite 
KinfaU, er kennt ja eif^entlieh die Waliriieit, aber will sie 
nieht ; man muss ihn liinterpdien un<I U*lii|^en und ebeii 
dadureh (tott dienen. Wiirde Jemnnd, der es leibhaft mit 
«Iem Teufel zu tliun biitle. sieh soleher Waflen und Verthei- 
di^un<;smittel iHMlicnen, so kiinntt^ <las imnier ^^eseliehen 
und der Krfol;r abirewartet werdon. WIrd dirse Taktik nber 
8o;^*br;iurht, dass man den Zwisrlimsalz als Axiom einpre- 
HoholM'n hat : die Menseln*n, so lanjre sie norh nieht die Kr- 
kenntniss der Wahrheit halnMi, d. li. so laii;;e sie noeli nieht 
di«' liehre, die in dieseni Kreisc? mit jenem Nanwn belrjrt 
worden ist, an;ren<unmen hainMi, 8telien nieht bios in der 
Anfechtunjx vom Teufel, sondern in seiner Macht ; man 
muss also, elvn uu) sie zu retten und aus ihncn Kinder GoMes 
zu niaehen, den Teufel in ihnen liekampfen, pepen wehhen 
8ie sell»st ganz ohnmaehtig sinti, ihn entweder par nieht ken- 
nend, oder ihn wohl par verlcupnend ; so n)uss man eben sie 
Ki'lbst mit den Waffm pepen den Teufel lN*liandeln. bis sie 
die Erkenntniss der Wahrheit pewonnen, d. h. anLrenommen 
und dadureh zum selbst find ipen Kampfe pepen den Feind 
ausperiistet und zum /zewissen Siepi» tiiehtip pemaeht sind. 

Es ist also (»in panz einfaches Dilemma pcstellt : entweder 
die Wahrheit. d. h. jene Krkenntniss mit ihron (xehcimnissen, 
ihren Aufsehliissen, ihren Waffen win! nnpenommon ; oder 
diese Wahrheit nut ihn*u Attributen und Eig^*Dschaftea 


Bin«l die M«Misrlicii, wio sic nun rlwn sin«l, und olino virlo 

VorlHTi'iunit; anzunrlnntMi, ja 7m rrira«i^Mi nirhl fiilii};;Hu 

lai»pc«* »*'»<'»* ^^J^*"* niolil 1st, sirhrn sic nnwiiUTrnflirh, notliwvnili*; 

und wrlirlort unlor der lliTisrliafi doH 'IVufrU. Ks Ulrilil 

deninacli Nii'iits iiliri;; nls das Zwoilr ah jcnrni I>ilonima: 

man u)U/'8 don IVufol in ihniMi iK'k/mipfrn. und zwar. tH) wic 

fs ilini pdiiilirt. WalirlnMt liraudit er niclit, drnn vr kciiiit. 

uIkt will sio niriit, ja c*r inis>I»rau«'hi sir, wciiii or nur irpMitl 

kaiin ; liUrliston muss man ilin und 8o ilin mit sioh ^'Hht 

M'hlapMi ; oin Lii^nor ist or: wtdd, or muss iil»crl»oicn und 

p*tausolil wordon. — Die Wahrlioit ist (iotlos, dio Iiiig« 

ist dos Toufois, JtMloni also das Soinigo ; don Toufcl uiit 

Wahrhoit nnirolion und iMMlionon, lieisst Gott vonichlon, uml 

ilini soinon Tlioii, <las ihm pdiiilircndo vorsn;^*n, wuhnMiil 

don Toufol iihorliston und bolupMi, Gott dionon und ihui 

das Soinigc* darhrinffon lioisst. Ks muss l>ei diosom Ail«*n 

unvor;rosson hloil>cn, daaii diosc Taktik olicn pojcon tlic 

Mons<*j»on, ffopon alio Monsehon, die nioht die KrkoniitniM 

dor Wahrheit haban, anznnohmen sei. Weloh ein Ab^^nmd 

croflfnote nioh hicrl Und dooii uberredot man sich, mi in 

dor Wabriioit zu 8tohen. in dor LioU^ zu handeln, und dti8 

Wohljfefallon (Joltos siob 8i<!her zu erwcrlien. 

Was nun KIm*I anianpt, so ist seine Stollunp dies«*: or ist 

dor vollkummono Monsoh, dor iloilige und Heine, er hat die 

Wahrheit zum vollkiunnionen Theil, er ist 8ic. Ihm zur 

8eito steJH'n inmier einige Auserwaidte, sie hainni die 

KrkenntnisH der Wahrheit von ihm erlialten, hie sind von 

ihm gehoiiigt wordon. sic orfullon ihri^ Uestinnnung, nicht 

nur JJorufone, somiorn Auserwilhlte, deren ja nur wenips 

Hind, zu sein ; ihro Namen werden einst glanzen, und ihrcf 

ist die Jlerrliciikeit. Ihm (Kbel) gegeniil>cr steht die Welt; 

zuni'tchHt die Natur, al)er nur dureii die Siinde der Menschcn 

Houfzende Krcatur; sodann alK?r die Mcnsehen ndbst, alter 

peblcndet odcr vertinstert, was einot* ist, dureh den Toufol, 

der 8ieh ja aueh als Kngel des Liehts klciden und wcnn 

m'oglieh. die Auserwilhlten selbst zum Fallc bringen konuc 

Nun bchauptet er frcilich gar nieht, dasH ci» nieiit untor 

diesen vielen Menschcn aueh vieic JJcmfene, Kdclbegabtc 

und durch den Gcist mannigfaeh Erregte und Angezogeno 

gol)e, uber urn so ungliicklieiier sind sio ; dcnn cdicn sio 

werden von dem Feinde um so leichter getausebt ; cr lasst 

ihnen eine gewissc Frommigkcit, ein gcwisscs Cbristenthuai, 

einen gewissen Eifer — abcr Allcs nur ohne und jenseits der 

Krkenntniss der Wahrheit, und so ist denn docb Alles 
.18 * 2D 


vorgdilifh uml Unh iind cine loichto IJculo <lcs Teufela. 
Danim liofTto or iiiinicr iind die Seiiioii init iliin, es wcnlc 
in einer Kiirzo (iilHT die nher sriion vide Zeit ver^ranpon 
ist) sieh ein hesonders p^fjtt);clies Wunderzeielien an ilnu 
oflcnbnn'n, daniit die IJcsseren wenijfstens, die ihrcr Nalur 
niicli IJerufenen und ntieh nielit Ver>tocl;trn inne wcrden, 
wcr er sei, und dnss in iinu die Waliriieit selbst 8ei, duss uuf 
ihn f^csi'hen, ilini naeh^xewandeU wirden iniisse. 

Merkwi.rdijr ij^tV, dass in diesein Kreise inmier das 
tialir ls:>ri als das entselieidentle, als der Kinhrnch dc.s 
Tuu^(cndJuhri}ren Keichs mil Heinen Vorkiimpfcn bctrnehtet 
worden \^t. Zu dieser Wahnvorstellunj; lialion indcKS Bowobl 
die I^ngcrsihen und die Jung-SlillingVhen Berechnungcn 
die Grundlapen her{;:c<^eben, als jonc Annahmo auf einer 
Ueilic von lU'^ej^nissen KI>er8 und auf iliren zeitliclien In- 
tervailen InTulde. In dieser Vorausselzunpf der nahe bevor- 
Ktebenden Veranderun^ sebeint man in jeneni Kreisc die 
Honst porpfiiltip peiibte Vorsebrift vernacblassipt und zu 
eineni dreisleren Verfabren bestininit worden zu wein, wodureb 
deun aHerdinps eine Kntseiieidunp, wonn aucb niebt iilier 
daM menscbliebo Geticbleebt, suudeni iiber das Wirken und 
Thun oiniper Monscben, dwn jencr nelhst sicb cinzuUdten 

Kann nun wobl Refrajrt werdon, wie Riwl die ibm Oe- 
^niilx^rstebenden, d. b. Alio, die niebt die Seinen »Hind. 
bebandle ? Als Kin<ler des Teufeln! Ilieraus fnl^t keines- 
we};0, dans er sic nebr anfabre, wild anbisi^e untl ztiebtige; 
bierzu viehnebr nuiss man ibm 8cbon mlber freriickt sein ; 
•if lK?bandelt sie. wenn nie Niebts absiebtlieb ^repen ibn 
unlernebmen. mil grosser Freundliebkeit, Milde, bickend ; 
er sucbt den Teufe) zu tausrben, dannt dieser ja niebt merken 
uiup:i% was denn eip»nllieb jresclHdien soil. Kommt man 
nabcr. so werden n'ine, lautere, evan^eliscbe Wabrbeiten 
mit allor Mibb^ vorjretraffon und Jedem l>epejjnet, wie es ibm 
lieb, an^enebm und wobltbuend sein kann. Isl nmn weiter 
Ij^kommen, so wini auf Ueinigunfr von den Siinden und 
nuf Kinsiebt in die Tiefen der Erkenntinss gedrungen. 
Nun werdi'U SiindenW'konntnissc abgenommen, anfiin^i^lieli 
noehsiebtijr und rubig, dann immer stren^i^r, fordernder; die 
Illicke trilien sicb. Die Hejrepnung wird tremeHsoner, drt>- 
hendor: kuns. os kommt nun zu alle dem, was beriMts <i1mm\ 
^•scbildert worden isl. Wendet Jemand auf diesem We^o 
den lUb'ken. so ist er verb»n»n ; op wird ul)er ibn fccseufzt, 
die Aebsc*hi gi*zuckt» er ist zuniek|]^wieben vom Krnst der 

rMmiEBK IX KOXiasnKRG. iil 

1loiri;r«nip uiiil xiiriirkp'kclirt in «lic Fiiistrriusj^ilor Wfltuii<l 
ihro Vrr«liTl»niss, w isi imtri'ii mul ilom Tcufrl vrrfalli'U. 
AVer 8onst nUT n«'utrnl htrht, dcr winl rU^n iil}« iiii Scliatton 
cU> TiMlrrt ^it/.i'lMl lH»tra<*litH, jimIcm'Ii nirhl aii^rofiMmU't; cloiin 
cs isi ja ilr.H I'Vimlrs Sfhiihl uiid iliT rnlrnic; lU-mulas 
winl zuv<THrlitlicli nnjrciionuticn, ilass. wriin Nirmanil aus 
dii'srr Srliulo uiitrni jjow«>rdi*ii wiin', das I.irlit whon writ 
vorliri'ili't uikI \\\'\v pTcllrt, il. Ii. \\x\\\v mid fonir AnIiangiT 
KIkIV p'Wtirdni wariMi. 

AIht di«j(Mii^cMi niicli, «lic i'Ikmi niclit nn;r«*r<*ind(M wonlon, 
tilior dio iimii aiich iin ]|«tzoii kriiu'ii (imll tra^t, lialNMi 
di'shalh doi'li niif schlirlito, walirliafU^ l^'liundlunj^ koiacii 
Ans]>riich ;. nio kiinnen ja dii* Wahrhcit nit*ht ortra)^*n uml 
wordc'ii voin Valor dor Liijjo, dor tli«! Wnhrlioit iiioht will, 
iN'horrsrlit ; sio wordon, in KoHTn man niit ilinon in Ik'riih 
ninjr k«>nin»t, niit, "Woislioit" Udiandolt, d. Ii. man po1>t 
ilnion, was ihnon xukonunt, ilinon «ioutlicli ist. l>ios alM*r ist 
alh's Andoro oIht nln dio Walirlioit ; niit nndonMi Wortm, 
inian lirhandoh nio naoli doni Trinoip: "mmiI kUip wio dir 
: SScldanjron," was ohon dio Anwondunj; ilor List, Unwahrhoil 
;u. H. w. in aioh onthalt. Wor iinion alior ontj?o;ron trill, onl- 
popon t\\ trolon sohoint, soi os \v«t i's wolio, oilor worin er 
wollo. popon «U'n ist niclil niolir wio popi'n oinon llo\vussll«i»H»n, 
im UionRlo doK Foimios Stoliondon xn vorfalin*n.wmdorn wio 
popfMi oinon mil s4*inoni Willon doni Foindo KrpolNMion; an 
don) knnn niolits Ciutos niolir piTnndon wonlon, ho wonip als 
am Foindo M4>)l)st ; wolohos Arpo nnin von ihni iiussapi*, or 
hat OS vonliont. und oh war soliona priori, wiion os nuoh aiif 
koinor Tliatsaolio IktuIiI, mil koinor U'wioson wordon knnn; 
dioso kann voransposot/.t and soldoolitliin l)ehauptct wonlon ; 
donn or ist oin Foind (lotlos Hchioclithin, und ihn, Rowoit i»n 
pid»t, 7.\\ vortilpon, ist poroolit. Soino Kliro schonon? Kiire 
oinoR FeindoH (JottcH? Kliro «*inoH Toufolsf Und nioht 
bios or H<>1l)st kann nach sololion GrnndHatzi^n. iMdiandolt 
wordi*n, Honilorn auoli in Hoxiolninp auf ihn int alien sum 
Zwook soinor Vorniobtnnp Dioncndo pcdtattct in dor lUdiand* 
hinp Andoror. 

loh Holiwoipo panz von dor oinporondon Woino, wio von 
El)€l nnd don Soinon pop«Mi niioh, don (SrafoD von Finkon- 
Htoin nnd I*rof. Olshauson vorfalin?n wordoii int, woloho Alio 
docli niohts FoinilliohoH popon ilin untornonunen hattcn, Hon* 
dorn sioh nur, weil Hie (Jrund gonup daxu in sieh pffunden 
«u lialN*n powisH powonlon wari»n, von ihm potn»nnt hat ten. 
Man priflf ihro IVrsonen, ihn* nittlioho nn«l hiirpiTliohe Khro, 

4.2 DMlSTKLLrxr; DKR riKTlSTlSillEX 

ja, 8o writ «'s p'liiip'n wnlltr. soIIhI iiiiv liiissoiv Kxisti»n7. 
firhonun«r>I<»x, llMijr un«l iiiit ilni Wallrii dor Iin';r«* an. llir- 
von alHT, wir jji'snjrt, piiiz zn srliwi-i^rrn, so liiolot iWv. i\\}V' 
nialipre Vfrfalirunjr>wri>i' Kiwi's iiihI ilrr S<;inrn, da mm ein- 
mal fine rnttrsnrluin^ riiip'K'iirt iind, wie rs H'hciiit, iin- 
auswviolihar, iind, wic sii-li djuiii l»ri ims von solUst vrrstrlit, 
niit strrnjicor (Jnvrlitijrki'it hiiidun'h pcfulirt wmliMi soil, 
die klan* iirid volli* Aiisrhaniin^ sowohl von di*ni (irmidssitz- 
lirluMi als v«in doni Praktisi'lini dirsiT \,v\\W dar, wo sic es 
mit (fo^nrrn zu tliiin zii hahon ^laiilMMi. 

ZiivonUTst naiulicli liiilte i*s ilincn doch niclit entprtdini 
sollen, was JediMn f^n'oii vorliopt, dass nandich Nioniand 
popcn sio als Ankla^or aufjretrotcn soi, Niemand Fidndsclnift 
p'jren sie licj^o, Ni«Miiand Vcrfoljrunp: pr<*p«*n sie ii'Ik*. I>ii*st<d, 
den (lira Ton von P'inkenstein (ich lial>e dicsen Mann seit inehr 
als 10 .laliren nnr einnml zufillli^ und weni^ frosproehon, 
ptcho oIhmi so lan^e in keinoni Kriofwerhsel ndt ilini, aehto 
ihn alM»r win soine (lemahlin seiir hooh) niit den priilisten 
und selnnaheiidsten IJriefm verfol^rend, wird endlieh dureh 
drn l««'ehtskonsulenten des (irat'en zur Znnieknaiinie diT 
llideidi^un^ren anCpTordet, wenn er sieh keiniMn Injnrien- 
PriKH'sse ausselzen wolle ; er versatrt ili«'ses, und die Klajr«» 
mil den tiazu iiolliipMi ]U*le<;iMi wird drr jurist iseluM) ziistiin- 
dipMi Iiand<*sl)ehorde iiU'rpdNMi. ]>i4'se iindet in den ](e- 
lep'ti l>injre, die in lM«denklielier Kezieluin^ znr Kirehen- 
]>isei)din stelin, und halt es fiir ilire I'flieht, liii*rvon dem Con- 
Historio Anzeipre zu niaehen ; dieses findet diese Monu*nto 
noeh liedenklielier. untersueht diesellMM), s«)weit es ilini zu- 
Htand. und jiMlenfalls mil aller der Zartlieit und lieriieksieliti- 
piiti^, die. nur ein«^ jreisllii'lie ]>elior«le dem jreist lichen GepMi- 
Htande zuzuwenden vermajr; das (^onsistorium herichlet 
clariiU'r der vorjrt^setzten hoehsten Behonle, und die UnttT- 
Hiieliun^ wird nun von Staatswejren anjri'ordnet. Ks pieht 
hier also ^ar keinen Anklajrer. Doeh ninimt zuvo'rderst Graf 
von Kanitz keinen Anstand, in einein olTentliehen Blatte, der 
alljTeineinen Kirohenzeitunjr. den sittliehen Uuf des Grafen 
von Finkenstein,' wines Sehwapers, und der (jSrafin von 
Finkenstein, seiner Nichtc und zujjleieh Sehwajrerin. als in 
der pinzen Provinz ul»e1 Uekannt darzust«>11en, daUei aueli 
alierlei andere, wonn aueh ctwas venleckter ausjresproeln'ne 
Ansehwfirzunpen amlerer IVrsonen zu insinuiren. Zujrleich 
erheht sieh freiwillij^eiue grosse /ahl der achlunjrswerthesten, 
zuni Theil ihrer aussoren Stellunjj narh auspezeiehn<»tstcn 
Miinncr der Trovinz, oflfentlieh lH*z<Mi;icend, dass (iraf von 

VMTniKlll-: /X KOX/CS/iK/iC, 

imturiiclun \vunU\ <las oIkmi, wtil i«s ullrr Natur wulorspru -^ ^ ' 
cIk'Ii als *\\v iR'iM* Nutur iK'^riindnul nnjr**s<*lH'n, p«»lolit i^ ^_ 

auf alle NVim.m} p-f nlorl wunlr. Av uiM*rstr »iiirii(k*r mm * 

clirstT lliiisirlit war, jt* rinp.»n'ii(U*n'r AuMlru«*ki' iiian»»^^^^^ 
iKMlinitc. ^l^•^lo li #Iht wiinlo iiiaii j;rslfllt, <U*>lu iiH'lir als • '^ 
walmii \'A'i\>\ «U'i* liriiiih^ sIcImmmI \viir«l«* nmii lirlrnrlit '^* ' > 
Srhini <las rMkaiiiilr nirlit wirlaip, tl. Ii. nirlil arjj p»'nu;r, **'^ 
c'lTrfTlr das rii/ufrinlniluMt uiiil wimio uin I'VsiIialtiMi #»-"* 
ArpMi, rill '.'iitrrliaiHlrlii mil ilnn 'IVufol, Ijaulirit, nrp'T *»*^ 
kah uml wuriii p'liainit, und mm lH*piiui das iHl'ii^rMi- li"'^ 
tiiHlrinpnidste Prcssni niif aniliTe mid jcrsirliarfii'n* I^-kfiitif- 
iiissr. Kainrii solche lirrvor, ho wurdi^ (iott p'pr'u'scn, •J^*'' 
da/. WvvA t'iiirs VrrslorkU'h rrwfichl liatlr. NVoIIic nn*" 
ilahrr Kulir, iini nirlil xii sa^roii lliiiiiii orlaiipMi, no lilit'^' 
iiirlits Aiidrrrs iibri^. als alliMifallh dir riiaiitasii' z\i ]\\\U* f-^ 
liclinirn iind cnliclitrtr SiiiHlon als wirkliclio zii lN>koiimMi, j^i 
fs wurtlrn vnii den l>amcn sopir Siitidi'ii |»ro|mnirt, die iaJ»" 
Ix'jran^cii IuiIm'!) iiMH'litt^ mid die nmi als iH'piripMi zu ImmcH* 
ten waivn. — Weiiij^sleiis ist es iiiir — das darf ieli Iri (i"'^ 
deiu All<'rlieili;rslen versiclierii — s<i erpmpMi ; ich IuiIk* Sun* 
d(*u iiiiiiid)irli mid seliriftlieh iN'kamit, die ieli nie iN'patip'ni 
tile inir %u lu^ki^niH^n vuii den (indinneii v. d. (inilaMi uml von 
Kanilz aufj^e^reln'M \vurd«*, zu deneii hie inir die Auwlriiok'-i 
in d«*nen sie U^kannt \verdi*n iiiiissten, tlieils ^enannt, tiA 
wenn ieli sie niehl scharf geniijf p'ln^fTen lialte, curri;(irtund 
eniendirt lialien. Unter welclien Unistanden dies fjewlielien 
nei, winl weiU^ iinlen niilier nnvrejfelnMi wenlen. Welrlu'in 
AVrhidtniss der Aldian.iriKl^t''t liiediireli bImt jr«*kniipft. jawio 
hk)aviseli fr<*l>nn«len man dadureh wvrden, welelie ]|errselia(i 
«Ier Ilerrsriienden hierdmvli iM'^^miHlet werdeii niiisste, <laH 
1)edarr wtdd jrar keiner Krwalinnn^. 

Zwei aiifleiv Monu'nle niiissen alnT liiemit nm-h in Vorliin- 
dun*; gi.'liraelit werden. Kinnial natnlieii konnle es nielit nus- 
Ideiiien, dass \tc\ <»iner snielien St4')inn;r der Frauen. Ikm den 
Leiiren des Systems iiher clle peseldeehtliehen VerhaltniKSC 
und hei der Metliode, diese in der Iiiel»e zu ndnip*n und zu 
lieilipen, 1»ei der viillljren NiiMlerjrerissenheit vlWvt jfrwohn- 
lielion Schranken der 8itte und in Wahrlieit aueh der Sittlicb* 
koit, t>ei dor FnMiieit, die die Dameii nieht Idos grstatteten 
und ffewiihrten, Hond«*rn zum Tiieil sof^ar anlnitcn und lekrtcn, 
)mm alle deni, was man Unverzwangtheit, Wesonheit und zur 
Freiheit. der Kinder (lottes {fehorig nanntr — 1>ei alle dcin, 
Ka^e ieli, konnte os nielit aushleilH^n, dasH in Zeitcn, in wd* 
cheu man uicht gequalt wurde, man nicbt von iuncrem Ekcl 


iiuij^ ^*«*«lrusH ((lit* innn iilwr inncrlichHt v«»rschlo8srn Iinlton 

lii'li^*^ ^*) ;fr<|iiiill w;ir, nirht Kcjfun/r«*n iiiul AfUssiTuiip»n ninn* 

hlvi| ^,^>«'>?K*nlc hirli fliiKtcllon nollicn, dcncii /.war dii* rlirrnd- 

U*ii "^ »^iu(Mi U.i;^eU*>?t wurdvn, die dmliireli alwr iii<'lit aul'li«ir- 

Hl^j.**^* K'iij. was hio elM«n siiuJ. f^''hoii das unaut'h.'rlitrlio 

ui|j^^^ KusK'ii uiid UiiiariDrii. dan jfaiijr iiiid jc«d)e war, die 

j?v>; \^^'He Art der kor|H?rli(?lK»ii Atiiuihcning audi da, wo von 

K^j|**Oi»c|it lichen rel*unjr«Mi /.iir Ilrilijriiii^ kcM'iio KcmIo war, 

(^^ *'vriizudor jrfwiiiinliclK'ii Art dcsZusainniviiscins gohorlo 

iV^/*^^> ill (j«*p*iiwart irj^iMid riiH'rf Frnnden, drausnon 8U'Ih'ii- 

K«%»* tfiit das f«jriiilic'iistc* iind zlcrlirlirttr CVn'mouicll cin), 

j,'*^'^! dit'H kcmiito iiiolit Vfrfchlcn, jciu* Wlrkiiiij? Hinnliohcr 

J'^^'jruiifc niiszuulMMi. ziimal vii'Ii» drr Frauni mil violcn Kri- 

**^ ties Aoussrrrii wir drn (Jristrs aiis;rc'staltot waron. \V<T 

J^^Vtt »«5ijrrii W4illtr, OS M'i iliin liii*rin anucr:* rrpiiijr<*n, von 

"*Mi sc*li(*iiit rs iiiir, d:iss vv hii'h lirliij^c odrr wtMiii^sloiis liiu- 

*^*lu". \v\\ p:laulH* inrlit, dass va irp*iiil Jrinandrn \!^vW\ dcT 

Mil* p*wohnli('lH*n »iittipMi mid sittliciini Scliraiikni aU fiir 

•*i<'li iiU'rlliissi^ rrarliteii dlirfli». 

]>as aiidirre Moment aber ist dies; dailurfli, dnssdie Miin* 
liCT den Fraiieii iilierwieseu wareii /.iir Lriiiin^ iind IJili'li- 
nuijc, hatte Khel fiir heirio iVivon den Vortliril. i^nnz in der 
Kji(ri*riiiin)( lileilien %u koiin<Mi, wn\ jedeiii Coiitiirto frei zu 
liieilH'n Iind Helieinliar elH'ti iiur p'selielirn %n lassen. (icnaii- 
e^le Kiinde iiiu:*ste iliiii ja doeli iilM-r Alles jrej^elMMi werden, 
nur Idieb es ihin \w'\ iler Verli:iiidliinjrsweise ganz frei j^elas- 
M*n, oil mid wie viel direelen Aiitiieil er \\\\ oiner Vrrliand- 
linifT iiehnieii wnlhe. (irsi-hali es z. ](., dasM nieh eininal tliu 
Verliiiltnisfio der |M'r>n*nlielien Verliandiiinfr un>;iiiisti;^ ver- 
wiek«dii wulhen, clrulite etwa ein Verliist, so Irat er mil iilK-r- 
heliiitlender Freundru'likeit und Lielikohmig ein, ail«* A'er- 
wiekelun^ wejrMdiielieiid, diMi pinxen (jevr<*nstnnd fa Den las- 
send, und A lies in lauter Liehlieliki'it und Kiilirun)? au(losi*iid. 
^H.*llien cs dtigepM) ein aiideres Mai, dass ein versttirkter und 
hturkt^tef AngrilT notliwendig sei, daiin hehritt er zornvoll, 
liefli)?. auf's Aeussersie errept, mit Jiollenstrafen und Ver- 
daniinun;^ uni sieh sehi«'udernd ein. Mit einem Worte, er 
hattc dureli diese Anordnun^ am Hesten fiir das jresor^t, was 
seine )M*wundernswunlig auspehildetc Taktik ist, — das |»or- 
siinliehe HeservinMi. (leseliehen niiisste ja d<H*Ii imnier, was 
er wollle, und wie er wollte. N«m'1i andere Vortlieile jrerin- 
^en^r, d<K*h nielit zu verselimfdiendtT Art erwuehs(*n ihm oua 
die.Hcr StcIIun^. 

Um die Vcrbiuduu^ mil Miiuuern, uauicntlicb mit gclcbrteo 

UMTUIElit: IX KihXiaSliKRii. 


oilor iilKTall oii.-sp'hiMcUMi un«] imtrrriclitotcn wnr o^< ilim 
i»ijr<»ntli<'h K'lir xu lliuii ; thrils sniltr (hulunli mmu Kiif aU 
wriii;r uiitfrrichti'trr, hohlM'liwiirnioiuli'r Mainn wiiicrlrirl wor- 
don, ilu'ils sulhr iluri'li hii* M*ini* Ih'Ihv iiiit (ii'lolirsttiukrit 
iiiiii ^iitcni AiiM^licii wohl nptirl, iinrli aii>si*ti p'tnip'n wcnhMi 
unii Vi*rl>r4>itri. llaltoii iiiiii nuii <lii* l>iiiii«'ii solchc \a*\\W 
put xujriTiclilot, <1. h. ho, chixs sii» peiirijrt M'hiiMHMi, «li»n Inliall 
ihrrr^ \Viss4Mis uiir%ii«rvlH'n, <iii^ Form oImt lN*izutN*lmllrii ftir 
c'iiivn aixioroii liiliult, tInmi ilio SehonliriT-KlK*rH'lu» liihn*. 
HO warn) t^io IkVIisi hrniirlihar. KIk*I H*li)st woUtc (IsiIht 
nicht pTii p»*r«'n (K*l«»lir?*anik«Mt aiikaiiipft*!), or wnIHe >w 
virlinoiir in Dichht iii'liiniMi. alter ilir Dirnor luaiotcii Iliiii 
lortijr p'lirli'ri wrnl«*n. .la, oiiiijro Klrini^kriicii niilim 'T 
ploiHi iiihI niiliicraliiassiiiip an. Kr liat Mfliroros ilnickcii 
laHS4'n, ProilifTlon u. h. \v. ; \w\ niolirrn lM*liniloii sich I5riltt;,i'n, 
Kxciirso, I. i\. rxopclisclic ik'nierkun^oii ulvr StcJkMi (les* 
niton und nonon Ti*stamonts; or vorstoht nlior Kchlorhthiii 
Niolits voni Uriooliisohon, untl llobraisch knnnor niclit N*m'"; 
or postattot os Amlorii.dioso polohrlon lUMuorkunpon uuKZiiar- 
hoiton, vorhtoht kIoIi in Kciiieni Sinn, und hIc wunion aiif 
hoinon Nanion jr«Miruckt. KIiouho ist es mil Citaton nus I m- 
loso)d)on, nencn*n Scliriftsloilorn, ja niit dor SpraclH^ wlM, 
die drnrkfahijr %n nnu'li«'n, innnor niclit unwosontliclior Vor- 
liosfiorungon i»odiirrio. Dioso wurdon n^or njoistoiis von dt'ii 
Damon, namontlioh von dor G'nilin von ilor (irolK*n, die oiii 
niclit p*ringos Talont zur 8|)rac)ilioiiou l>arritoliung Iw'sitzt, 

Troton nun ansdiosonA''orhrdtnis.sen, Ansioliton iiml Vcrfnli* 
runjcswoison ponu;? Kiomonto horvor untl znsaniiiion, tlio ^\^ 
liodonkliciio und Vt»rdorl»liclio do.s (jSanzon liinndrlicnd ff* 
konnlmr machon, 8o wurdo Alios nocli xnohr versohiiiiinK*rt 
duroh die vorkehrtoste Ansiolit oinor an sicli violloiclit n'*"* 
bihiisolion Lohrc, dor vom Toufol. Eh ist niclit mciiie Auf- 
pal)0, iiIkt tlioHo Lchro ein Urtln*il nuHZUHpruclien ; niir wH*!*^ 
Hc*lioint hio ill don Worton <lor JSiI>ol ontlmltcn zu Hcin, i^^ 
woisK alM*r audi, dass os solir fntmnm cliristliolio iiottoj** 
polohrto, UiUdplauliipo TliooK»pon ffopolxjn hat, die diol/'h'* 
vom Toufol niclit nur niclit mit tier Vornunft, Hondem a"<^P 
niolit mit <lor lioilipcn Schrift und diT LioIm? (lottoH %\\ verm- 
nipoii powuHst und dalior IIoIht don Toufol, aln Vornu»^ 
8clirift und dio innipo Uel>ora5ou«cunp von dor LIoIm* (iottcH 
aufj^opolM^n Iial>cn. Dooh wie «!s sicli dniiiit vorlinlU^n inufT, ^ 
vie) Hcliei lit jinJcMi fulls {(vwihs, duss oh immor ein ))edoukiii'ii^''| 
Ztiicbcu iHt, wonn eiD Ueistl ichor fort und furt den Teiirt'l 


citirt, mehr von ilim nls von Christo spricht. O ioi»t os v'wwn 

Touffl nr»cli jrtzt, uml ist or ininicr noch, nuch nach <lor Kr- 

8c]ii?iniin;^ Clirii*ti iiiul «ler wcitrn Vrrl)reitiinp drs Christon- 

tliiiiiis so fH*lir inachti'T, hi wrnlon Mt'nsclirn ihu wohl nieht 

iilicrwintlen, mid jtMlfiifalis isl's zwri fell) aft, oh die strcn^en 

Vertri'tcr drr Kxistnix des 'IVufcLs die iiini^Hten Verehrer 

un«i Picner (^liristi sind. Doch nuch dies kann hier ^anx 

dahin pestellt sein ; doiin Ekd and diojeni;ren, die ihni folp»n, 

maelien vtin dieser Leiire oine Anwendung eipoiier Art. 

Zwid Kijjenselmflen des Teufels seien eft, die j^nnz In'sonders 

auf^efasst iiml l»erueksirli(i}rt \v(>rden inuHsten : dasH er iistig 

mid der Ijiigiier von \\\\\\< aiis ist. Diireh Liftt verfiihrte er 

tias xweite lTr\v<»S4»n, tliirrli sie iind ihireli seine Llij]^en l»e- 

hiekt er n<»eli ininier fort die Mensch«>n und iiiilt sic in der 

Finsterniss. Seid listijr wic die Selilangen, war KI>el's Wahl- 

H)iriieh und sein Losungswort ; denn von deni erklarenden 

Xiisa}z<*: ,. und idine Falscli wie die Tauhen," duvon durfle 

liei ill in, da es sieli von selbst versinnd, nieht die Uedc sein. 

Zu iH'hdiHMi iiiid xii liessern ist der Tenfi»l nieht, iilMTlisteii 

muss man ihnI Ihin Wahrheit entp'gensteNen ist (iiorichte 

Vliiifalt, er keiint ja eip'ntiieh die Wahrheit, aber will sie 

Dieht ; man niu.^s ihii hintergtdien und beliigen und eheii 

fladureh (iolt dienen. Wiirde Jeniand, der es leihhaft mil 

flem Teiifel wi thun hiitte. Fieh soleher \Vairi«n und Verthei- 

di^uiifT^iinittel iNMlieniMi, so kiMinte das immer ;:ese)iehen 

und der Krfol;r ahj^ewartet werd«*n. Wlrd dirse Taktik aher 

Ko p»hr:uirht, dass man den Zwisehmsalz als A.xiom ein^- 

**eholM'n hat: die Mensehen, si» lanp» sie noeh nieht dii' Kr- 

kenntniss der Wahrheit halM'n, d. h. so 1aii*r<- ^i<* noeh nieht 

die Lehre, die in dieseni Kn-ise mit jeiuMU Nanicn hrh'jrt 

worden ist, an;;enommen haiK*n» stehen nieht hlos in der 

Anfeehtunp v<»m T<Mifel, sondern in seiner Macht ; man 

mus.H also, eh<*n uin sie xii ret ten und aus ihnen Kinder GoMes 

7M macheii, ch'U Teufel in ihnen hekampfen, prepen wel«heii 

8ie sidlist gan% ohnmaehti}^ sind, ihn entweder ;rar nieht ken- 

nend, o<ler ihn wohl ^""ar verleugnend ; so muss man eben sie 

selhst mit den Waffen pre.iren den Teufel hehandein, his sie 

die Erkenntniss der Walirheit gewonnen. d. h. aiiirenommen 

und dodureh zuin .^elhstandigen Kamiife gegen den Feiud 

ausgeriistct und zuni fiewissen Siegi* tiiehtig p*macht sind. 

Es \?X also ein ganz einfaches l>ilem!na gcstellt: entweder 
die Wahrheit. d. h. jene Erkenntniss mit ihren (tehcimnisseii, 
ihren Aufsehliissen, ihn»n Waffen wird nngenommcn ; oder 
die^e Wahrheit mit ihreu Attribiiten und Eigenschaften 

VMTniEBE IX KOXiasliKRa. 419 

Bind ilic MiM)s<'licii, wie sio nun rlM*n hIhiI, un«l olmr virlo 

VorlM*n'itinii; nn/.inH'iinirii. ja z.u (*rira<^tMi ni«*lii fiiiii};;Ki 

Iai»j;C«* h' »«*!*< lies nirht isl, sti"li«»n sit* nnwidcrmtlirh, noiliuvnili* 

und utiirlort muXvt dor llrrrsrliufi dorf ToiifrU. Ks Mrilil 

duinnacli Nirlits \iUr\\: ids ila> Zwoiu* %u jcncin I>ili*miua: 

man \\\u:*a d«'ii Toufi^l in ihnon iK'k.'inipfon. und zwur. h> wic 

C'S ilnii pdiulirt. Wnhrlirit liraurhl cr nitiit, drrin «t kciiiit, 

uUt will sio ni<*lit, ja vr nii>sl)rau<*lit sir, wcnn or niir ir^inl 

kann ; iiUrlistrn muss nuin iliu uii«I ho iliii init hicli ^*\\wT 

hi'lda^rn; fin Lii^nrr ist i*r: \V(dd, or muss iilKTlMitcn und 

p'Uusi'lil wrnU'U. — Die Wnhriicit ist (lottcs, dio Luge 

ist d<*s Trufols, Jvdrni also das Soinigo ; dm Tcufcl mit 

AVahrbi'ii nnirrlion und iMMlimcn, licisst Goit vi*racliU*n, uml 

iliiu soimMi Tiirii, das iliui frrliUlircndn vrrsuj^i'n, wulinMul 

den TcMifol iilH*rIistrn uml Induiron, Gott diem*n und ihiu 

das Srinige darltringiMi lirisst. Ks nuisH l>ei dioscia Ail<*Q 

unvi»r;frssi*n bl(*ii)€n, dasri dicso Tnktik td»cn pop'n «iie 

Mrnsrhcn, gcgrn alio Mfusclion, die nirlit die KrkonulniH 

drr Wnhrhcit haban, nnxumdunrn sci. Wd4'ii ein Ab^^rund 

orofTnotc nirh hicr! Und d«K'h iil>errt*dct man sieh, su in 

di*r Wahrhoit zu ntohon. in <lt'r LivU^ zu bandoln, und diu) 

Woldjrofallon (3ott<'s sirb 8i(!bor y.u orwerlion. 

Was nun K1n*1 nidan^t, so ist soino Strllung dios4*: er IhI 

dcr vollkunnnrm* Monsrli, dcr llcilifrc* und l<(Mni\ or hat dio 

Wabrhoit zum vollkomnu'non Tiicil, or ist sic. ilim xui 

8oitc stobon ininior oinigo Ausorwablto, sic bnUMi die 

KrkonntnisM der Wabriioit von iinn crbalton, sic sind von 

iliin goboiligt wordon, rIc orfulbMi ibro Jt4*stinnnuiig, nirlil 

nur J{<*rufi'?u\ sondorn Ausorwrddtc, (Ktoii ja nur wouip 

sind, zu soin ; ibro N anion wordt^n cinst glanzon, und ilirei 

ist die llorrlicbkeit. Ilim (KIhjI) gogoniil)cr stebt die Wilt 

zuniiciifit die Natur, al)er uur duroli die Siinde dor Monschci 

Houfzendo Krcatur; sodann al>er die Mcnsobon sidlist, alic 

geblcndet oder vertinslort, was oinos ist, durob den Toufel 

der 8ieb ja auob als PIngel des Liobts kleiden und weni 

mligliel). die Auserwfddten selbst zum Fallc bringon konu( 

Xun bebauptet or frcilieb gar niobt, dass c» nioiit unU 

diesen vielen ^renscben nurb viele JJerufene, Kdclbogal»t 

und dureb don Cjcist mannigfueb Krregte und Angezogen 

go))e, uber uni so ungliicklicber sind sio ; dcnn eltcn si 

werden von dem Feindc uni so leicbter goUlusebt ; or blsi 

ibnoQ eino gewissc Frdmmigkeit, ein gewisses Cbristentbuii 

einen gewissen Eifor — abcr Allcs nur obne und jf^nxcMts d< 

Krkenntniss der Wabrbcit, und so ist donn doeh All 
.18 » 2 1> 


vorgcblich uml t<Mlt and cine loichlo Houto ilos Toiifela. 
Danim liolTte vr itunicr uihI (lie Soiiioii iiiit iiiin, (*8 wcrdc 
in eiiior Kiirze (iilHT die nl>er sclioii vii«lo Zoit vorjranpon 
ist) si<*li rin iN'soiiders p^tittliciies WutMhTziMcluM) an ihiii 
offen1)nr«"ii, dnniil die JJcsstTfii wrnijrstons, die ihrer Nalur 
Dttcli HtTufeiioii iind noch nirlit A'«r>t«K'kl«»n inne wcrdcn, 
wur or Fi'i, uiid dass in ihni die WalirlH'it si'lhst soi, dass auf 
iliii fjrsrhrij, iliiii na<*li^ewaiHlelt uirdrn iniisse. 

M«Tk\vi.rilijr istV, dass in dirsein Kreise iinnier das 
tialir l.s.'Sti als das entsclieidende, als der Kinbriich de.s 
Taii}(endjuhrip'ii Ueielis mil Beiiien Vorkiiinpfcii betraehtet 
worden itft. Zu dieser Wahnvorstellunj; habcn iiidcss sowobl 
die lienf^cPscbon und die Jung-StillingVben Bereebnungen 
die Grundlajreii hergc«j:eben, als jcne Annabme auf eiiicr 
Ueibc voii liegognissen Kljel's und auf ibren zeitlieben In- 
tervaUen iKTiilite. In dieser Voraussetzunp: dcr nahe bevor- 
Kleiienden Veranderung sciieint man in jenem Kreise die 
Honst Korpraltig peiibtc Vors<'brift vernacldiissigt und zu 
einrni dreisleren Verfabren bei^tini nit worden zu sein, wudurcb 
deun allerdings eine Kntsebeidung, wrnn aucb niebt \i\)cr 
daH inenscbliebo GeHobleebt, Boudern iiber das Wirken und 
Thun oiniper Monschcn, clM?n jencr selhst Rich cinzubdten 

Kann nun wobl pefragt worden, wie Rliel die ibm Go- 
p:cniil)crstebenden, d. b. Alle, die niebt die Seinen 8in<i. 
bebandie? Als Kinder des Teufels! Ilieraus I'oljrt keines- 
wegg, dass er sie K*br anfabre, wild anlasse und ziicbtige; 
bierzu viclmebr muss man ibm sebon ntlber jreriickt sein ; 
•jr Iwhandelt sie. wenn sie Niebts absirbtlieb jrepren ibn 
unternebmen. mil grosser Freun«lliebkeit, Milde, bickend ; 
cr 8ucbt den Teufel zu tiiusrhen, damit dieser ja niebt merken 
uiogi*, was denn eigentlieb gescbeben soil. Kemmt man 
naber, so werden n'ine, lautere, evangeliscbe Wabrbeiten 
niit aller Milde vorgetragen und Jedem U'gegnet, wie es ibm 
lieb, nngenebm un«l wobltbuend sein kann. 1st man weiter 
gt^kommen, so win! auf Ueinigung von den Siinden und 
nuf Kinsiebt in die Tiefen dor Erkenntniss gedrungen. 
Nun werden Siindenl)ekenntnissc abgenommen, anftinglieb 
noehsiebtig und rubig, dann immer strenger, fordernder; die 
Blioke triWn sieb. Die Itegt^gnung wird gemesscner, tlro- 
hender: kurz. es komnit nun zu aile dem, was beriMts oImmi 
fri*scbildcrt worden ist. Wendet Jem and auf diesem Wege 
don Uib'ken. ho ist er verlon*n ; rf» wird iil»er ibn geseufzt, 
die Aebiii^hi gi*zuekt, er ist zuniekgewiclien vom Krnst der 

rMmiEBK IN KOXiasnKRG, iil 

1loili!fiiiip nml y.ururkp*krlirt in «lic Fiiistrriiij»i»«lorWfltiiiMl 
ihn» Vrnlrrlmiss, vr isi iintn'U uihI iW\\\ Tciifi'l vi*rfall<'n. 
AVor 80IISI niM'r neutral Mchl, ilcr win! rU'n iili* im Scliatton 
cU'h TtHlrH ^it/.^h(l iK'tHii'litrt, J(mIu4'Ii nicht nn^rrfoimlrt; (leiiii 
cs i>t jti (l<*s ImmihUs Srliuhl iintl iliT rnlrru«'; «li*iiii ilan 
winl zuviTsiolitlich nn;;enoninion, ilass. w^nn Nirmnml auH 
d'u'sor Si'liulo untri'U jjowordrn wiirr. das I.irht srlion writ 
vorlirinli't und Vii-k» pTclIrl, tl. h. nahr und form* Anliungcr 
KU'IV p'Wonirn wan'n. 

AIkt difjiMiipMi nucli, dii» <*bt»n nicht nnp'frindot wonlon, 
ulK;r dio nmn aiich ini ]|orzon krim^n (iSroll tra;;t, haWii 
di'shnlh doi'li nuf schliclitr, walirliaftt^ H<*liandlun)( kciacn 
Ans])rucli ;. nio konnon ja dio Wahrhoit nirlit ortra)^*n und 
wordrn vom Vatcr dcr Liip*. diT tli« Wahrlioit niolit will, 
iNdMTrsclit ; sic wonlon, in sofiTn man mil ilin«*n in IWriiii 
rnnjr koninit, mil, "Wcislifit" Udiandolt, d. Ii. man jriolit 
iliricn, was ihm*n xuknmmt, ihnon drutlicli ist Dies nlierlHt 
alles Aiiden* ehiT aU dio Walirlirit ; mil andrn^i Warb'ii. 
I man U'liandelt nio nacii <lom TriniMp: '*M>id kliipwiodu* 
SScldanjron," was ehen «lic Anwondiinjr dor List. Unwahrlioit 
u. H. w. in 8irh cnthalt. Wit ihnon aU^r ont;;o^on trilt, nit- 
jfepon xu tn»ton sohoint, soi es wor os wolU», mlor w«»rin cr 
wollo. po^n <lon ist nicht niohr wio jrop*n oiiion IJownssthtst'n, 
ini I>ionRto don Foindos Stohondon xu vi*rfahn*n. w»n«lrrn wic 
pojTon oinon mit soinom Willon doni Foimlo Knroli«»non ; an 
tlom kann nichts (Jntos mohr p'fundon wonlon, ho wonip als 
am Foindo sclhst ; wolohos Arpt? nuin von ihm aussnjcr, or 
hat OS viTiliont. und k^^ war sohona priori, wiion os auch a«f 
koinor Thatsaoho iKTuht, mit koinor U'wioson wordon kann; 
di«*so kann vorausposotzt and sohloohthin l)chauptct wrnlen ; 
donn or ist oin Foind (lottes schlochthin, und ihn, ftowcit »'j' 
pidit, 7M vortilpon, ist p<*rooht. Soino Khro schonon? Khw 
oinos Feind«'s (Jottcs? Khro oino« Toufols? Und nirhl 
bios or 8<*II)st knnn nach solchon Grundsutzi^n. IndiaiKWH 
wonhMi, Hond«'rn auch in Hoziohunp auf ihn int alic8 xum 
Zwock poinor Vornichtung Dioncndo pcdtattctin dorlWiawl- 
hincf Andoror. 

Ich sohwoijro pnnz von dor ompiJrondon Woiso, wio von 
EIk?! und don Soinon jrojr«»n nnoh, don (irafoD von Finkcn- 
Htoin und I*rof. Olshauson vorfahn?n wonioti i»t, wolrho Al'^^ 
doch niohts Foindliches popen ihn untornommen batten, tjon- 
dorn sioh nur. weil Kie (Jrund gonup dazu in sieh gefumlen 
«u halNMi gowiss powonlon waron, von ihin potnMint hattfO. 
Man griflf ihn* IVrsonon, ihro sittlioho und lHirf^«rliolie Kiit^t 


ja, HO writ «*s p'liiijriMi uolltr. sdlist inn* j'iiissrre Kxiston;^ 
wli«>nun«r>I«»x, liMi^r nii«l luit ilrii WjillVn <lrr LnV** «»>. Ilir- 
von ftU'r, wic p'^sijrt. piiiz zu srliwrljron, ho l»iot**t \\\v. doi*- 
nialifre Verfalirnnfr^wi'isf KlirPs iind <liT SrIiu'M. tia niiu oin- 
mal cine rnt«r.<urlnin^ ciiijrcU'itrt iiiul, \vii» es Hclicint, un- 
au.^^wrirhhar, iind, wiu r*ir|i (hum liri uns vmi scll^si vi-rstulit, 
uiit strnipT (iiTcrliti^kfit hiiMliirrh pofulirt wi-nlrii soli, 
(lit* klar«' uiul voile Ansriiiiinin;; sowohl von drni (inindsatz- 
]i(*h(*n aln von (icni rraktisriirn ilirnT Lrutc dar, wo nio cs 
niit (fc^nrrn zu tliun zn hahon ^laulM>n. 

ZuvonicTst nanilicli luittu es ilinni <ioch niclit cntpchon 
Follon, was JcdiMU tilTcn v<»rlirpt, class nanilirh Nimninil 
popon Hio als Anklfipor aufpctrctrn Hci, Nicmand Feindscliaft 
p«'pen HJe liopo, Nicniand Vcrfolpunp prpon hio iilM». Dicslcl, 
den (iiraroii von Finkcnstrin (ich halH) dicsen iMann neit inolir 
als 10 Jahren nur rinnml zufalllip und wrnip prsjiroehon, 
ptfho idK'n HO lanpr in koinoni llriofwiM'hscl mil iinn, achto 
ihn alM»r wio srinc (lomalilin wiir lioch) nut don pnihston 
und Hciiinrihcndsti'n Hrirfm v<Tfolpcnd. wird cndlicli dun*h 
drn Krrlitskonsnlrntcn des (frat'cn znr Znnicknalinio diT 
IMcidipunptMi anlp'fonlrt, wcnn vv sich kcinrni Injiirion- 
Prooi'sse anssctzcn W(dlr ; rr vnvntrt dii'srs, nnd dio Klajr<^ 
niit di*n tiazii notliiprn B<di*«r«Mi wird dcr jurist isrlicn ziistiin- 
diprn Iiandf*sli<diord«* iilMM'prlNMi. ]>irs(> linilct in d<Mi Uo- 
Ivpcn Dinpr, dio in lirdrnkliclHT Hozicliunp znr Kircljcn- 
Pisciplin stolin, und h:dt os fiir iliro I'fllrht, liit'rvon drni Vow- 
nistorio Anzciprr zu marhcn ; di<»si*s linilct dioso Monu'Uto 
norli lM*d(*nkli('lior, nntrrsnriit dic*si*n)on, Howi*it os iInn zn- 
Htaiid, und ji'drnfalls niit alliT drr /arthrit und Hcriirksiiditi- 
punp, dif*. nur cine p(>istli«*lHr Hrliordo dt*n) prist lichen (icpon- 
Htandn zuzuwcndcn verniap; das Consistorium l>crielitct 
dariiUT dcr vorpcsctztcn liodistcn Hclionic, und die Untcr- 
Huchunp wird nun von Staatswcpcn anpcordnct. Ks picbt 
hicr also par keinen Ankliipcr. Doch ninnnt zuvcirdcrstGraf 
von Kanitz kcincn Anstand, in rincni «ilTcntlichcn Biatt<\ dor 
allpcnicincn Kirchcnzcitunp. den sittliclicn Kuf dcs Grafcn 
von Finkcnstcin,* seines .*>chwapers, und dcr Grafin von 
Finkonstein, nciner Nichtc und zupleieh Seliwiiporin. als in 
dcr panzcn Provinz ul»cl In^kannt darznstellcn, dal»ei anch 
allcri«*i andere, wonn audi ctwan vcrdeckter auspes|»roeln*nc 
Ansel) wurzunpen andcrer IVrsonen zu insinuiren. Zupleieh 
erhcht sieli frciwillipeincprosHc Zahl dcr achtunpswerthcsten, 
zuni TIumI ihrer aiissonMi Stellunp naeh auHpezt'iclinetstcn 
Manner der Trovinz, oflfentlieh iH^zeupend, dass (iraf von 


Fiiik«*iistviii und mmiio Cinunlilin mir als nlle, Htllich Ikh-Ii 
pi'sti'llte IVrsmu'fi lM*kaniit srirn. Ks winl cino InjuricU' 
kla«;i* p'jjcrn (fi'iif von Kuiiit7. iliT /.iihtaiKiip*!! LaiidrslH'luiniti 
iilterjji'lM'ii — vr hIht, v\\\ ioyalor riitrrtliaii. riii StaalMruiiiT 
(TribunnUrath) uii«i cliristiichor Mann, wiinlipt )m\\e Obrip 
koit kviiKT Verantwortunjr, «*r htrlll hich ilir gar iiiclil, wvil 
k*ie Dicstrl p'pMi (iraf vuii FiiiktMistriii vcrurtlirill halto. 

So writ lautrl (lasjriiip*. wa.s otToiitlirli In^kannt gcwonlrn 
iht. AUt \v«*iti;r. Ww liiN'listcii Orts angoDniiuMe Untrr- 
siirliiiiig ihircli <lrii KriiniiialsiMint iN'giiiiit, KU*I iiiitl ^^\^ 
Srini^cii liMigiirii Allrs und liis uiif iIiih iBiTingMo lirrali; 
p';rrii alK* /iMigrn winl )irolrstirt ; sit* siiid LiigiuT, Vrrlcmii- 
i\v\\ Siiiifli>nsi*lili*niiiH*r, ja xnni Mi*iiu*i«l«' lH*n*it, jimIit Siiiitli' 
fiiliig, srliiildig ; os gi«*lit kciii Vcrhalliiiss, das in«*iil vrrl«*tzt 
un(i licHchiiiipfl wird. Die vom lUehtcr niithig vrachuti'ii 
Coiifruntalioiu'ii viTwaiidi'ln v\v\\ von Soilon KU^rs und Uit 
Seinigcn in dii* i'hrcnnilm*ndstcn und J«*dri< sittigt*n AiiHtiiii- 
d(*H onnanpolndon XankmM'cn ; von siidi ndlist iiInt snp'i) sii* 
niundlicli un<l >(*iiriftii(*ii nut oincr Naiv«*tat. widtdio dii* cjiisf^lio 
wiMt liintrr sirh lassl. das iMlflsti* und ll(K*listi* aus: an iiiiKH 
isl k«Mu andrriT FfhiiT als lM*i«*listrns idn reUrnuaass von 
Tuprnd,ilasdiiMirgru M^MisrluMi nii'lit rrtrair<Mik nniMiuiHisirii 
di'siiallt rni|) in*n. auKidinon. und w<*;l nirlits TcUh's inWiiiir 
licit vur/.ul»rlnp'n sii. zur liiijro und Vt*rl«'unidun;r jrrrifrn. 

nirsc so iN'/.rirlinrliMi PciNnnt'h siud aUrr krin<* aus drr 
lUTr di's Volks, ki'inr iliron Milhiirjrrrn unltrkannto MruM'la'U, 
ossiml uhrn* Lrulo, (fristliciir. (irlrhrt<\ StaatsdioiMTU. s. \v., 
fas! All**. «»drr Wold pir AIN' llnusvi.lrr, und rs ;rit'l»l krimu 
unltT ilini'u, dor nicht in prossfrrui odiT p'rinp»n'ni Mnnss<» 
sirii on'ontlicii Vrrtraurn «*rworlM>n und darin U'Widirt liattr. 
Aiit^ alnT wurdrn scldcrlilldn dcr Iiii«ri'. diT Vrrlrunidun^r 
aufs KntscliirdiMidstr iK'/.iirliti^rt ; von Kcincni nU*r nui*li 
nur angononmion. it ktinno virDririit in cdnnn Irrtliuino 
li(»/;rriiri'n und woni'Tstcns sul»j«*ctiv wahr soin. Nidn, nie sinil 
Alli! ViTli'unidrr ndt liowussts*'in und hosrni AVillrnI Arh, 
wio if it'll t wan* rs d«)ch oImmi <lirs<'n so hart nnpdaswnrn 
Zeugcn, sicli das Loh dor Waliria'it, jn, rinon uanzrn SlrnhUn- 
kranz huchsltr LoU wrlndiunirt'n nis Mi»ns<'hon und Christm 
zu cTWorlK'n. wonn is ilinon nur mo;rli<di p'Wi«wn wurrwirk- 
licli zu lii;^rn ! W(*nn sic nur nuoli di<* Olirigkrit aJA vom 
boM'u Fc'indf Insrssm lnMrarlitrt und rs An;fC'mrss4*ncr 
g'lTundrn h.atrn, hIc zu iK'liigon! wenn ouch sic nur gv'uu'int 
hat ten i*s sri (iottosdicMist und Wahrlicitstmie, die Mittel 
dureh den Zwerk zu lieilip*n und zu Iiipr<*n, anstatt Wahrbnt 


z\\ safjcn I wcnn ftir nur nich lifittcn iiln itimIcii ko'nnon, rin 
solrlu's Vrrfnhn'ii st'i nirlit histrrlicii iiihI \\\\ tirf^iton (iruiulc 
pot!rslrUL''iKTi.*J<li ! wrmi nucli sit* mir Uutzcu-init (iottcMlicnst 
hattt'ii V('i'wrcli>4*ln koiincii I 

Fn'ilirh, vuii Scilni KIh'I's uimI i\vT Srineii ist Nirlits in 
dit'stT Art unliTlnssi'ii, Niflits fiirzii sfliwcr ;ri*riirMliMi wdhIimi, 
ja, was liinii iiiclit fiir ino;rli(*h iiiittT p'wissen Unistruulrti 
bultoti in«k*litr,r8 isi deniiorh ^escholion. Mciisrht'ii %ii holiVrii 
— h'iilcr, flirs ;roscliirlit iiiflii Krlirii ; <lie Ohritrkoit Iiiiilor;-!'- 
lioii — audi ilit'S iht l«M»lfr nirlits rnorho'rtrs ; wrr uIkt aurh 
nur an «*ini» p»ltlirln' Wrhrr^itTun^ ^Inubt, uri<l wrr niit drr 
(j<*s<'liii*}it«' i\vx MtMischrn und A'olkrr nur ir^rcntl wio inif 
rim? wirklirli iniu'rliclic \Vris<» lN>knnnt j^-owonlm ist, drni ist 
dir hohe un«l pittlii'lio ISi'doutunjr (Ut 0)H*rliriu|iirr, llorr* 
tic'hor und Koni^r dor Viiikor wmi^^Htrns ho writ ini (frfiiiiie 
aufj^ofranjrtMi, dass <>r nich ihnon ;^«';r<'nii))vT, nnuHMitlicii, wo 
ef« nirh uni \vieliti;ro nienschliclit* und pittlirln; Angolrjjen- 
hciton hnndt'lt, unmitti'lltnr zur Wnlirlinfti^kcit grnothif^t 
fiildt. NiH'li gnnz nndrrn ist, wrnn Sinn und Inlmlt rcinrn 
CliristiMitliuniA nirht fcldt. Dirsrn, Idolntrie und Unv«'r- 
uunft ji'der Art auflicUond. fiiiirt unniittrllmr dnliin, in iXat 
Ifottliclirn H(';ri<'runjr di»r W<*lt iilKTull I'int'n Ijrili^nMi Willrn 
und cino pittiiclio. nuch d«T nicnschiiclKMi Vernunft willi;^ 
Bicii entfaltrndr Ordnuu<r zu crldickiMi. 

l)if?5i*H Ciiristi'utliuin Irlirt, iniuM'liclist iM'^rn'ifrn. dass Iwi 
alior (jSliMi'ldu'it dcr Moiisrlicn vor (lott dir AI)stuliiiipMi in 
dor Hrsclicinun^ und I>aisU>I!unfr drr nuMisrldiclMMi, fiir 
jfiVltlielir Zwrcki* <'.\lstirrnd<*n (Ji'srllsrliaft cinr liidjo und 
unantastliarc niMlrutun;r halN*n, und ih^^i^, wrr sir!) in dicsor 
pittlichrn Wi>ltordnun«r rincni Andrrn untorj^tMU'dnvt sirlit, 
dioH als M>ine pittliciio, also aucii sidi^rt* Ui'stinuuun^ ancr- 
konncn niiisso, uml soine Unt«T«»rduun;^ ist in <lcr That, wo 
«»T audi strlu% iinnu*r nur v\\\v UntiTordnun^r p'jron Oott ; 
dirses also in sidi Stdi^k«'it und Frdln'it, jom*s Unstdijjkrit 
und KtH'ditsidiaft. Wvv scdnoin Ko*ni^<? da her sidi tiof, 
ftvTXi und niit alU'iu ])(*wusstsoin untorordni't, <li'in iM'gc^not 
>iiditrt von Knn*lits;;cfulil, Hondrrn CT wi*iss os, da?s dirscs 
oin Akt HoiiH'r Fn'ilii'it ist. durdi wddio or vor (Jott dcni 
Kiinifre ploiidi winl. Und was dio IioIhto Mrnsdjcnwiirdo 
audi in dor untor^roordntMon Stolluuff unvorlotzt und rdu 
crhult, ist Ja oUm das Uoolit nidit nur, Hon<I«>rn auili ^\\^^ 
Vorj)(iiditun^ \i[v%ii\\ Jodon, am Alloriuciston al>or pyiM) das 
1Iik;liHte und «lon ll«k*list4*n. Und ko ist os audi in diosoui 
8iQue bcHtutij^ond, daHHdie Wahrbeitdasallcin fnd Madirndo 

rMTinKiiK IX KoxrasnKi:G. iv; 

N»i. \V«n» OM luiii wnhl in(>;;lich, tlnn^ man von diorin 
StaiuliMiiikti' iiiis unwalir unil hintrrp'lionii iind nbHrlitlirh 
laiiHrliftKl viTfulinMi koiiiitc p*pMi si»iiK» OIhti*. pcjjiMi K'Incn 
K«iiii;r M'lliJ^t t iind ist (li«'M'r Siaii<l|iiiiikt ni«*|it ilrr vi*riiiin{\i|; 
rliri>llirlir 't \v\\ ri|irt't*li«.* lii<T iii»rh ;;ur nirlit V(»n iK*r (SriisH; 
do l»iirp*rIi('IuMi ViT^ohrn.s uviin man \\v\\ Koiii;;; K'HtM zu 
tiu.'*('li(*n ^u<*llt, uihI i'Ihmi^^u ucnif; uiHli'n*rM'itM \o\\ tlcni rlN*n 
hi» tli<irirlit(*n aU falM'lMMi Vorp*lH»n ilirM^r ^HH•lcn;r*•mn».'«^% 
lia.'^s nil* vorziij^lich. ja wolil oiiixi^ \\v\\\ Thnuit* wic dt*ia . . . 
tirii p'.HJniit '/ unil i*rg<dK.*n wur«*n ; flriin K'idrr »i|HT(*lion m) 
tliorii'lito iiml v«*riii('hMMir l>rliaii)itiiiip'ii anrli IVr>Mim*n au^ 
aiidnvii, Mifisl in allrr Woisc walirlun cliristlUdi und itWl 
p'>iuiit«'n KnMsiMi an?*. 

A^MT was aus ilcin Kndso KUdV vWw in diriHT llinnirht 
U'i <B(dr>renlii*it der oinjc^'luitetrn Untrrsucliuu;; narli H-hr 
frluiiMiafUMi Nar!:ri('hton (^csrlndM'n Mdn soil, das vcnlicnt tls 
4'l)unikt«Tistiscli lirrvor^oiiolMMi 7m wvrdon; niclit als An- 
kla;r<', uImt alsrin nir«li«' p^ycholo^risclie Auffassunf; wirlitip*]) 
MohHMit. Ks ^iidit nirlit nur in unsenii Vatrrlande, HniKlrrn 
ill ^\\\\7s IVutsrldand. int piii/.rn Kuri»|»a kfinni p>l»ildrton 
^IciiM'li«'n, di-r fs ni<*lit wiisslf. tlass idwn unsrr Konij; nn 
walirlian fronmhT sri, drni <irr<M*lit!^ki*it nnd Walirhi'tt dan 
Tlanrrst4\ und, was dirsrni rntp'jr* n. cin (ffnlncl ist. Nun 
an di('^4'n. an unsnn allv«'r<dirtrn Kiini^ wrndot ninn si«*h, 
M'ino (muuU*. st^inrn Srlint7. anrufcnd fiir rin«*n froninnMi, von 
Lii^nrrn und Vcrltiunidini hart vrrfol^irn tnMirn llirtcn 
C'iiMT rliristlirlicn (jomrinr. Wrr wussli* niidit, dass rin lol- 
rlirr Aiinir das froniuio llcrz nnsrrs rrhalN'mMi Konijrs omv 
;r<*n koiintr? Wic bImt wajrt man os da von Vrrlriumdunp, 
von Liip' und von Vt'rfol^un^ %u rcdon, ^*p*n drn Kimijc 
srll^sl 7.U rtMliMi, wo Nit'lilH vorjrc'hraidit ist, nis was ii«'n (it»- 
wisH'tdniftostcn drr w«dd erwopMu* nnd mildt*st4! Ausdnirk 
tlrs Tinilsuridic'lirn ist ? o<lrr war (irr HittstidliT mdlist in 
riner Tiiuscliunp iM'jjriffrn? I)ann hnltc or wonip^trnH loirlit- 
sinnig und unlMTufrn pdinmUdt. Al)er davon ist hier krino 
\\vAi\ ; dcr dtraf von Kanitz hat cs p'thnn, cr, i\vr nllrnlinpt 
von Allien nuf's («rnau«*sli» unti'rricht«*t ist — nlwr idH^n di'»- 
hnlh anch hnnrscharf und vollkonimtMi lK*stinimt weisui, wio 
vorHchonrnd und ouf all«» \V«msc pfrmiissi^ pt'^rcn Kind und 
dii» S«*ini'n vorfahn'ii wordon ist von donon, die or nun ala 
LiifrntT nnkhi^^t, und von Kdnrni und nuch unm;rin Kiini)^. 
Kr wiMss 08, dasH Alios, was ^rosolndion, was nuH;ri*sa;ct> wor* 
h'n ist, abirosohon von dor vollkonimonston Wnhrhoit dowvl- 
^*n, von dcr Obrigkcil au8«;c8agt it»t, die uicht vua Dicwun 


otlrr JriMMii xiir UiitiTsiichunjr durcli oino nn;Lr<**»rnclito Kln»^c 
vornulttsst, snnHorii von cl**r liiwhston Stcllo finzii anjrcwioscn 
wopKmi isi, vor di-r alH»r zii t'r>*(!liriii<*n unci niif ihn» Frnpron 
£11 ant\vrirt<Mi nnoli (I«t \Vahrli(*it, ja pir krino Walil ^la^»- 
K*n. condom Hchlrclithin IMlicht ist. 

Uii<l WAS pill OS (Iviin Hciion zii Hrhrricn uiid die a1i(*r- 
lio.'listo Unadoaii/.urufiMi, wotlie Untrr.suchun'rnoch schwrhl 
iitid nach ollor A'orf«rhrift uiisnT (tosrtzn pfrfiilirt ist? Odor 
fiirolitrt or dio .Ju:<iiz? dio l*roussischo Jiistiz? «'r, oin I'rous- 
f«isrlior Tribunalsralli ? MnVlit«» or iiolnM* oiiio tiirkisolic pj- 
liatidiiaiit lialmii t Niiii walirlich, daiiii Initio or sioli nioht 
nil don Koni;; von Pronsson wondon sollon. Will Ich ai»or 
liiormit «lon (irafiMi von Kanitz als oinon alisiolitliolion Vor- 
lu'oolior p»soliildort lialxMi, woil or in dor That Ktwas, das 
oiwn (losoliildorlo, i)o;^an;ron, das kanni andors als oin Vor- 
hroolion, und koin p'rinuos, pMiannt WiM'don kann? I)as soi 
forne! IJowcison alior kann os, wio p'statt^t, wio soidoohtliin 
l^ostaltot in dor Lolirc nnd in don (irundsril/.on os sol, olino 
Untorsoliini Jodon niit Lii^ron Ixdmndoln zii diirfon, wonn or 
nioiit dio l«>konntniss <lor Wahrlirit liat, nnd wonn os dcni 
Zwooko nnd doni Nntzon dor Sooto di«Mi(Mi kann. 

ForinT: I'S wird ;rlanM»aft lK»rielitot, dass dio Katoolm- 
ni«Mi HU'IV, oiniiro ilun naho strhondo Frauon, sodann al»or 
aiioli nioliro Anil<»ro aiifjLrof<irdort, ja rooht oi;rontlioli ^oprossl, 
von Mil;xliodurn dor Socio (dioso zo;;on lii'runi, nni Unt«'r- 
Hoiirifion nuf oino sidir andnin^ondo. lM'drjln;r<'ndo Woisr zu 
8ainnioln) sioh mil niltselirifton an Soino Majostat don Koiii^ 
^owondot liaUni sollon, in d«M)on dio voIli;;(> Unsoliuld unil 
Uoinlioit Kind's und dor Soinon l»otliouort und alios p*pr«*n 
ilin Vor;c«*l>raolito als Lii«fo nnd Vorlanindnn;r bozoiolinol wor- 
di'ii ist. Nun ist Niohts fjowissor, als ilass wodiT in jonoin 
Kroiso. nooh von iinn aus^^diond dnroli Andorc PUwas pc- 
Boliolion darf, am Woni«rston otwas Bodontondos. olino dio aus- 
driiokliolio Znstimmunjir und <]as l)ostimmte Oohoiss KhoiV, 
tlioils wo;i:on dos unlicdin^ton (ioliorsams, don man ihni 
Hoiuddi); zu soin plaui>t. Ihoilsdor Uoi)orzoujrunjr, dass Niohls 
pdin>;on konno, das nioht duroh soino Uilli^un); };o\vissornuis- 
stMi die Vcrhoissunp erhnllon liat. (Don wirklichon Charaktor 
dos (}ohorsams in dios<Mn Kroiso zu orkonnon, kann audi dio 
8or Zu)jc diciion.) DasA Schritti} solcher Art wabrschoiniioh 
iiU^rai), \w\ uns jranz vor^oldiclicKiiid, vcrstcht sich von solbst. 
Nioht alK?r von don Erfol^on, sondcrn von den Motivcn, Prin* 
oipion und Motbodondos Vorfobrcns diosor Scclc ist bier dio 

Vad in iliitwr Iti'xii'Iutni; iihima cs hi frniirii pr^tRttrt i 
hut (^ in Awtvr IWjtichiinfr vie), >Mlr-r diu-Ii mir Mciiii; A 

liilikvtl mil ili-m rim-x Klin-miiniiiUH. w i Hnn •-ini- V 

MiK-liiinir ii^vT ciufii ttiir mile Klin- IVxii); liulHtiHiri (!i 
BlRiid i'iti)ri'lcil(-l i>l, ihIit woIiI ):nr liiK'K ('liri>1i-ri, •)<'r 
HPiiii-ii IJIaiilH'ii, iilH'r wiiif UflH'rwiigiiiip>n. iiluT win 1 
M-ll.^l H,rI..-i.wliJiri K-.IHH H..II r i-i .s iii<'l>t vi.-l.i,.br p- 

lUfH jnl.T Klir.'tllll:>l.>l. llOrl UII. ... IIK'hr jr.l.T ( 
(•Kt .1.1.1. ».il.l .'ill Kl,,.»iiii iilH-.-,|j,.> iM)Ni,-l,l.> 

- i:iii 

ml .1 

l..Tv..rt'.>l..t. mi.:k.-iiT W.'l.r ii.isMT..r.1.Mlli<-l». llilf.', 
Si'li»U <I<T lloh.n .i.liT lllH-hxl.'ti u-1-r.U'ii i>u- iin.')i>.i 
ii.icli wfiiipT nUr ilic Villi TJ-iM-liiinK xu imlcnlriifkcn 
XII <'i>li.-k.-ii Mi<'l..-ii. X'N.i >^<>]\ i.'li wkIiI frnp-it, nil i 
t.'in'iiil.-ii Srliitii|irn'i|i'ii .liiri-li K]irt'iikrfiiikiiii)f Aiitlon' 
/iill.i.'lil wiT.|,-u7 

I.'li kI'I'iI"-. •■" <»■><•» >"i" '1i<' l>i--')«Tip-ii Krifiiiti-niii, 
wcit r..rl)trfiilin uii.l I'liil.iili.-ii l.iiin'i.-l><-n<l>'i) S(..IT. ii 
Alili'iluii^'i'iiiilPT wiclitipT iJliiTr^iclilli.-li.T Ui-!<iillnlr i 
XII kiiiiii.-n. 

1, Ni.-lil <Uiii iiiimli'slni Zwrif.-I •'» iinl.'mnr 
Koiti. lU"" I'iiic wili-lif (iriia'iiiM'liiiri, wii. <lii- liicr in 
fU'lipmlr cilit- n-lif;ii>H«- Sim'I<- k.'ixkihI wi-r.l.'ii iniiiuu-. 

3. Im li.-N-listcll (JniUi- nU-r KUiif.lliua l.'l'x. uU ill 
ilic Bcn.'iinuii^r vitu-t rhrlsllidifn Suli- Ix-ip-lffrt v 
kl'iiiiu; ctcim wiif^ liolx-n .Ln-n nniiKll.linn iI.k Ch 
ihuniH oiiHAT dcr Zululti^ck.-il, [•l.-ii'h.r Worlc nicli Iii 
tin xu ludioiii'ii, lifiii'M j>'i].).:li .lit' iiuruiiinii.Icrtn'Wn.] 
vnii.t.-fn'nfc'io'txtc lli'ili'iiluii;; ziikoniiiit, 

3. KHiwt KU-I nTwIiii'il.-ntlirli liehnupti-t w 
iluiiM KW'tMoiii'ti M'iniT tin jcrnaniili'n )iliili>Hn|ilii)<clicMi 
uitd Bi-iniT C'liristlii-hcn wi-iti-r kt-imr Vcrliiinliinfr wi, j< 
i-lirnH niif Hjiokulalivcii) AVcf^c k'^^'"'!'"'''*'''! 'li<'H<^ <'in<< 
liubc, iiii filaiilM-n iH-rcsli;;!!', Km 'M n1»T unlicfcrfillir 
man kI'^ii'x'ii k.'iiini', liii-rniil Mnr-li.Ii'iiki'inli' ^IpiixrlH-n tiii 
zii k.'iiiiK'n; il.-Nn: 

a. Ih-r \\'.(c. ouf wcli'lii-ni hinii i-iiio I'dH-rwiiKui 
wniiiien, ritip Wnlirhfit )p-run<li-n hat, ii*! in l{4<]iii'liiii] 
Ui-lN>rzpiigunfc und Wahrbpil wllist genz Rlci.'liftlltiir. 
Iilrilioii nirlipii iin.l k.'innrn, n'cnn nil- in ttirli NcltH^t 
aiirtn-hvlMn wunlt'h, nirlit wi'Ki;<'>^i>o'H'ti wtinloii. 

\\"w, wvaii JcniiLiitl etwu uuT r^jn-kulntirciu Wt] 


Urhrracujriinfr clrr NichtoxiHtnix Gotten p*woiincn hiitte, 
koiinte or cIhIkm (MiriHt. JA rlirintlirhrr Lrlirer Mcihrn iind, 
dariilior xur HfThriiM-haft frcxo^cn, iintwortni: philoKophi- 
n*nd ItMigne icli (tott, aluT nuf cler Knnzcl unii iiuf dom 
Alturc hf'krnne ich ilin. Man kann nirlit cntp:o)rncn, Athe- 
ii>miiH K*i Kuvan, zu deiii man nur durrh den lioehnten Trotz 
otter die hik'bste Unkunde alter Vernnnft- und Naturgenetzo 
prelangen konnc. eipentlieli etwa» UnnioglietieH, der Ver- 
irlrich mit eineni Hilctien aluT unHtattliaft. Allerdinn^H niusste 
jeder AtlieinniUH v(»n der p*nannten BeHetialTenticit sein, d. h, 
rntweder in der Anwendunf? oder anf den Tn'inunern allef 
Vernunft- nml Natiirj^eset/.e aufgenitirt worden sein ; tiat alH*r 
die Hetiiinlierr-KtK'IVetie Leiire ein<*n iM'SJHTen oder irjrend 
(*inen ZuHaninienliang niit Vernunfl und Xatnr, von der iieili* 
fi^n Selirift ganx unit ^rar al)p*se}ien ? 

h. KIn*1 Imt frar keinen Anstand penoninien, aneli zu sagen, 
peine KopMiannti* |iliilosopiiiM'iie fielire ItalN* er nur prolilenia* 
ti>M*li tiinp'stellt. Nennt man atier wold ein fVobli>in Kr- 
kenntnisxder Walirtieit ? tFa, diese Vertln*idifrunjrsrede KIk'I's, 
aHpresetien von ilirer vfillkonitnenen wiHsenseliaftlielien Un- 
walirlieit, int noi'li viel selilinnncr und ilin iulrter anklagend, 
ja, noeti m«*1ir iilHTfn'lirend, alH das Krste. ])enn man l)c- 
tlenke. wie unendlieji setiwaeli, ja, uie fast cdinc eine ehrist- 
lieJic UelNTxeuifung »ein (liaulie an die Worte und Lel)ren 
den KvanfreliumH H*in niiiss4$, wenn nie sieli nictit einmal ala 
liinn*iehend kriiflig in ihni haln^n erwei^en koiMien, uni Ktw(^, 
da8 weder mit den (iesetzen der Vernunft noeli der Natur 
wohl vereinliar ist.daser iilMTdies selbst nielit einmal mit der 
pubjcrtiven Teberzeuprnff der Wahrlieil anjrennnimen hat, 
fiondcrn nur fiir etwas rroblcmatiseheK hiilt, vollig aus dem 
AVe^re niumen zu konnen. 

r, VtM luit aher in der That, diese Krkenntniss nicht nur 
fiir wahr, fur ohjeetiv wahr gehalten, sondern aueli fiir den 
uahrrn und einzigen Schliissi*! zur Kinsicht in die WiM, zu 
demj«*nigen, wan cr lelHMidipes Christenthum genatint, und 
nlH dessen Ansatz cr die kirehliehe Heehtgluuhigkeit aln 
niehti^ und todt, die zu nichts fiihren kann als hoehHteuR zur 
TiiU8c*bun^ iiInt sieh si'lhst und endlieh zuni To<le und Ver- 
derhen zu nennen pHejfte. In fliesem Sinne wurden din 
onhodoxen und frommsten (leistlielien unserer Stadt, z. H. 
der verstorljone Krzbischof Dr. Borowski.die beiden Prediger 
der Altrossgiirtsehen Kirche, Kahle und Weiss, der I*farrer 
WeigM, llahn, als cr lici uns war, airt todto Christen, dcrcn 
AVirkbAiukcit hochi»t verderblich aei, mit groi^tjcm Eifcr und 

VMTillKHK IX KO.\J(i:s-Jt£UU. 

niriit pTintrom j^ornmulUi' frcwhilili-n. la ilirscm Wi 
wunlo niii't) iiiit iltT |fr<>rtsi<'n Vt'rwi>rriin;c von lipni Ih'fl 
tu-lioii t'lirlMc-iiilmni tp-:>|)r>K-hi-i) ; iiii'lH-ii i]ii>>t-iii Sinix'i^ir 
VA—l iiiiiiKT vl>-l iciinMip-r Von ili-ii rMit>fiiai)iiii-n Itnlin 
listen ; ilfiiii, uiisiiffiMli-n xnar mil iljn-ii KcMillnirii, IuIk< 
(liK'li nil ilinrii, «l«i>it Kid nidi wcnif^HtcitM ilnch muli «ii>li- 
Itcwi-ixiiiinHn uiiiitnlii-n, itlf rWii ilic kin-hlidir onluxl'i 
aiNTlit-rcri ; von ilini-n dnrnT m<'ii)l<- tiiiil liofTtn it, i>ii^ nun 
Kticii xiir Krkciiril nil's Uit WnlirMl, il. li. zn Minrr tii 
wi-(ffii win, wrnii man fW xuvnr iiiir irgi-tul wii- iiir jits 
lirlii'ii rnliTworTimir liriii!;i-n lL«iintc, 

il. In Wiihrhfil linl niii-li KM ft \v<<ni|r fwiii jiiiikwii 
xi'lii'^ rri-<l" I •III- mil •Iriii Xnt»i-M iI.t I'lrk.-iintni^s flrr W) 
h>'il Mv^if l,ilir.') vni .<->iir>ii kin lilirli.Ti (•Inm rvoii^ili 
kill] iii.'l>i p'l.ixini »<T<lrii , p'in'Oiil. <I»SH J<,Ut. An i 

iiiit ji-iK'iii i'iiii;.'<'riiiii— u-n Ixkiiiiui win 

■. ill tirr I'n-.lijtl llf 

.\M<t>'uliiriK>-n,tlii'ilM uln-r um-li lM'r<iitiii 

nil.' >\ur<rulininp-rM 

wlU'ii, wi'iHi niu'h in no vcnH-kUr v 

iikI ill ItilH-lworU- 

hiillUT \Vci.w. <liiMM .'H lU-n mil j.-nn 

r Ia-Liv UntK-kann 

v<tIh>i>.'^ii Lli'ilit. Iliulcn konnlr iiml in 

IIIS.-.I.-. Jit. fK vi-rl 

Ikicli niicli mt liiit (It'll iiu'iHti-h. uvnii iii 

■ lit nllni toii K 

iliin-li it<-n Itnii'k Wkttiint t"'i»it''lil<'" ' 


4 Dnx I[iiu|>t ili.wr S-h.- l^i KIh- 

1, ji-il'M-li nii'lit Kn 

nurli AiiiliTO S.-.-t.-ii Vi.Ti ji-lirl- ll.lill.t.T 

iinil VnrKl'-tier prb 



' l.iit 


]|»i)|)i<T nn-l.TiT S<v:.-n rin^ liJiln-r*- im-ns.-l,liHw Rl.-Nii p^Mlii-lx- Itriirutiili);, wii- ilnx aiis ili-r I^iin- m-\ 
l^■^l>lp'^t. liii'niiiri'li nlx'r wii'diTnni ilii' ]^-hrr lH-|;riinili't 
li. iitiiic lirntiit fi-M^ri-liiilh'ii, siinuHiHl bInt udlHilitiplcr 
liiir^nni Tiir innl iilisolnli' I'titrrwi-rrnnjr Allt-r uiiUr iliii I 
l»iciriil<rl uni) init ilcr uusH-rntcn Strrnm^ p-rortJiTt i 
iHMilineliii't wonli-n ixt Dm* iitt Katlxnui rlmti tlDDrctliRii. 
fi. Slanil aluT t-inmal EM da aU vollkoniracnor .Mrii? 
nl.'i ilcr lli'ilip- um) Koine (nicht liina diuwH KroiwH, foiul 
niich ili-K UiiivFrHUini*) unKon-r Krit, hat rr iiiHil Mrm 
Wnlirlidl, Kdndcrn war or mv audi, war cr nidit lilw 
Itcint'. HniidiTn wiir d»cn wiiio Wirkun^r «uf Anilert.' (J 
aur dii- Fraurn} hrilit^-ml uinl n'init^ni), no crirab Hirli i 
von H-llwl — 

a. Oh OS wnhr wi, woh ci- HQirti-, Iplirtc, that, dnnach kon 
ja gar nidit |.'(Tra;rL wcnlun ; vh war walir, woil vr cs gi'so 
K*^1(:brt, fc^tl'ii" hallu. 

b. St-iii Uuigan^f niit don Fraupn wuro nacli loastii 
Bfunheiluugua uiuEiichlig su nenixin gcweaen, J» cr wl 


wusflte fiir Andrro, M'lbst wonn fiic nur iiii Kntforntcsten auf 
ilioso Wi»i>M» vrrfiiliren, Vv'ww uiidrrc Honeiinunpf ; weil cr 
alM*r d4*r Ueiiu* war, so knnnto iiiich sriii Tliun nicht unrein 
H*in, mid w<^il vt \\vv llcili^-n wiir, nicht iinhcili^ soin. Kr 
beruft sirh dalirr anch fort und fort nuf suinc Keinlirit, ja 
aiif s«*inc natiirlirix! Kfuschht^it (tT, drr Hunst imnuT Ik*- 
kauptrt und Irhrt, von Natur soi an uns, d. h. an Allen 
ausser ihni, Alios iWisc unti vrnlerht.) 

r. Als vollkonunnrr Monscli war soino Natur, wciso zu 
sfin. Wfish(*it alN*r lN*stelit darin, th'don so hciiandcin zu 
koiinon, wit* cr rs oIkmi lirauclit und ihni fronnnt ; cs war also 
«*in Vorzu^, Jodt'ni cin Andorer zu seiii, nirlit, wio Paulus, 
Allt*n Alios. In d«»r That wi'chsolto or <lio Fariji? ohaniiiloon- 
liscli, un<l 8oino Krscheiunnjr war nichr als tlio oinos Protous. 
DasH dio lioutr. dirs l>oinorkt*nd, ilin stets fiir oinen Falscli(*n 
und lleuohh'r hicdtiMi, das orkhirtt* or in hoiteron Stundon 
alH oino Hchwont Kinstorniss, dio das Land nooh d(*('kt, wo 
duroli aU'r <lio Woishoit in dor Xolliwondi;rkoit <los Woolisols 
ihn»r Krschoinun;? nioht orkannt wordo; in Stundon dos Vor- 
dniss4*H alxT wurdo dios iladuroli orkliirt^dass ir^ond Joniand 
ini Kroiso p*siindi^'-t ]iat, oin vorlmr^onor Bann da soin niiisso, 
dor oino sololio Vrrwirrung anriolito. Und doron pib os loidoi 

</. Dor Iloilij^o und Heine Rolltc dooli nothwondi^ doni 
I)osi*n in dor AVolt (tloni Fiirsten dor Wolt, doni Toufol) cnt- 
irt^in*n wirkon ; diosor ul»or ist oin Liifrnor, diosoni muss nun 
das Koich horl^'izufuhren, diojoni^fc (lo^onwohr entgogenprc- 
sotzt worden, duroh woloho or die Wahrhoit niit Howusstsein 
und aus freioni Willon zuriiok p'wieson hatto; dies alier ist 
nur niogliob duroh die List, und zwar obon durcli dio List 
dor Wahrhoit. Nun l)cherrsoht ja abor <lor Toufol Alio, dio 
nioht in der Krkonntniss dor Wahrhoit stohn, os niiissen also 
A lie niit List iM'handolt wordon, d. h. iiln^rlistot, d. h. dor 
Toufol in i linen iM^kiinipft wordon. 

Has jfross4» Maass dor hior/Ji pdirauohton Lii^on wurdo 
deni l>ionste dor Wahrhoit zu (lUto p:<*sohriolKMi, ohno das 
UowissiMi ir.irontl wio zu U^sohworon. I>iosi»llK5 Woishoit 
wunle alN*r nioht nur frof'on die l>rnussonstohonden anpro- 
wcndct, Hondorn auoh p*fron die Mitj^liodor d«'s Kreisos selbst; 
doDD uur Wonige von ihnon wariMi ja vollig hindurch pce- 
drungcn, die Moisten waren ja aueh angozogen und orweckt, 
doch nioht durchwegcrleuchtet und zu vollkomnienorMannos- 
8tJirko herangoroift ; aucb nie waron ja ncM'h don Anfochtungon 
dc8 Feindc8 auHgesctzt, nocb viclfacb dunkcl und zur Fiuster- 


nis<i genri^t, oiirli si<* iils«> iiiuj«!(t«*ii mil liif^t U*liamk*lt werJfii. 
Zur |fl(*irii«'n Wnshoit ah«*r nun ^('li«»rt <•»< niicli. dasM j«Hi<'r 
xuni Kn'iM* (trliori);i\ W4*lrho Stiift* rr au«'h inne hafio, in die 
Meinun^ >(i*i«ot%t un<l in ilir <Thalt<*n wrnlo, iiim Mi*i AlW 
mit^ctlirilt, t*r wissi' Alios, vor ilini haln* man kt*iii (toliriffl- 
DISS. Winl (T fIrnniN'li sputer woitrr jrt*niiirt, ho wird ihiii dM 
friihrnr Von^nthultni nln cine Ilnn<lliinpr liolN*mlor WnVbrit 
lM*j»n*iHirli pMiuu'lu, nun uImt, dns orf.ihrt it witMlor, wj^sc er 
AUrs. Winl mnii iiiitor solrhen Hrhnndlnnj^rrn von einom 
unhoimliohcn (trfiihlo orprrifTon, und hat man no4*h nirht 
Knrrjjio cnt>M'hoid«*n«lon yminun;? prwonnrn, w» bloibt 
Niclitri '\\W\\t, als ditisi'H Unlioimlichc in hich M*n»^t hrimlirh 
zii vorrichIioss€n, da Himst die l^*p'(rnunf^ diister und mih 
wird. Zii joncr KiuTjrie alvr gelan^t man nur nac*h viclrn 
inm*n*n SclnmTzrn and Kiimpfrn; dcnn wic ist dui'h diTiir 
P'sor)?! u'onlfii, dasM man nioti zuvor frowisMTinasiton p* 
fanpMi p»)C<''***"» "»<i ^^^^ wlhst in FrHsoin p*M*ldii|n'ii halwf 

Zur Zt'it. ftls irh di«*H'iii Kreiw mK*h anp'horU*. d. i. vor 
nun fust 11 tiahrrn, pili «'m wolil nur 4 Mit^litnlrr <l«'SM*liH*D, 
dir Eur vollkomnuMirn Maiinossturk**, drr AII^h rntliiillt wer* 
dm, di<» Allrs tni;rrn konnt<% pdantrt warm ; dirsc* iN'Htandrn 
au8 3 Fraiion : (SrutiniU'n v. d. (irulM'u, v. Kanitx (dit^tie 
li'tztoro vorxtorU'n). Fraulrin Kinilie v. Sflinittrr ; da»* vk-rte 
Mitfrlicd war fn*ilirh k«*iiio Fran, |r(*wi»is alN*r audi krin Mann ; 
dmti (2raf v. Kaiiitz war dirsi's 4tc Mit^lird, und ihni tritt 
man gfwisH nicht zu nalit\ wrnn man ilini lN*i williffiT Kio- 
ruiimuii;: mnnrhor KigonscliaAon, ja mdW Vorzii^, tll<^ 
Munnlirhe nbspricht. 

Irh fahre nun in dor Dar.^tollunir H<*llmt fort. Kino Holcbc 
in (iohoimnisH nich hiillondo Vorbindung konnto nicht be- 
Htehon, ohm* lH*inorkt, ohno iNMiharhtot und lM*urth«*ilt zu we^ 
don. Da.sH dio Urthcilo nioht irh*ich, iilH»r Manrhounjrorocht 
waron, ist natiirlioh. und dariilM«r zu rorhton wiiro unnTht 
Won II alM»r Alio u'h<>roinkomnion, ilan war oin (lofiihl d«J 
Mis^traiions und doH Missachtonn. Ja, da Violo unhofan^n 
gonu^urthoilton, ko kamos halddnhin.dassnioh dio Annahnie 
ik'hr vorhroitoto: Kind zii*ho untordom Sohoinodor Iloiii^rkfit 
junpro und hiil)S4*ho Damon an nich, verhandlo mit ihnoo in 
Worton (Jottwdi^»8, in dor That Flei8chlich<»a und jrri)b«t 
SiiinlichoH ; illtoro roicho Frau<*n muHnton ihni dio Tiichter 
zur Kinweihun^r in die tioforo Fniinmi^koit zufiihrcn, dabci efl 
nl)or aiich nicht an iiu8Ron*n Opforn, GoHchonkcn, an Gold und 
Saohon fohlon lani^^n, roicho Grafonund andere Wohlhalicnde 
aber «donfalU an^onohmo Opfor darhrinfrcn. A lie, die ou't 


K^iol in VcrhiiKlunpr Mnmloti, waren iiu Puitlicuiu init ilein 
Naiiicii MiK'kor (J<rlu»inlKMli^t') iK*zoiclim*t ; nie Imtteii, in 
welchoii Vf^rhultnissi'u aia fiuch sti*lK*n iiiochton, un^enioinc 
8<*liwii*ri^^kt*it«*n am ulxTwiiHl«Mi ; nuiii i»lici» ;r('rn uiHscr alleii 
nnlu'riMi VeriiiiltiiisMMi mil iliuun. Vii'Ic K'^^tni hicb audi 
nielli einiiial i\vu /w;iii;r niif, ilir Mi.sstrauon iinii MiHsachtoii 
zii vorln'wn. Ofl wiinle in iluni Kn*i?4C clariiljor ^rrsprochen 
nml In lM*ssoron Stinunun^cn von K\tv\ als KruiunU^'un;^ 
ffiMlcntot : OS wrm* dio Srliniacii (Miristi, die man zu tru;rt'n 
batto, (lit* man williir nnd frrudi^ aufsieh nitliiniMi miisso ; in 
triilKMi h$timninn;riMi da^r^on (pnd die^^e wurdcn lianli;^er und 
am Moisten iibur diijonigen uns;^cp>sson, diu dum Kroise 
lHn;r<*ro Xi*it an^oliiirton und don Krwartnngon noeh nicht 
enUpraelitMi) waren Hio, hioss ch, liindurch [(ctlrun^ren, ku 
wiinle an<'li Alios liorriich stohon. Wan slo al>or hatton tlinn 
und Icinton hoUou, das blioh vorlKir^f^n. Ks wurdo ^os^'ufzt, 
Aobsol p'znokt, jfonuirrt, olc. ; KIm*1 orkblrto voll Zorn, or 
miiss4* Alios loidon, ibm p'sobobe alios Wobo, ibni (U'ni 
Unsobuldii^Mi ; das Keieb (iottos wiirdo anfj^obalton, niobt 
durob die draussen stobondon Arnien, die sicb ja niobt bolfon 
k«)nnton, da sio niobt iHo Krkonntniss dor Wabrboit batton, 
Fondorn ihircb die Tra^boit und liiissi^rkoit dor Mit^lieder 
dos KnMsi^s ; (b'ni Uoiobo (itMlos miisso (iowalt •roscbobon. 
8<>lcber und libnliobor bofti^for Kedon wurdon viole ^ebalton ; 
die Oanion bliokton mit Tbranon auf H1m>1, diMi unsobnldi^ 
LtMdondoo, lloili^on und Koinon. Wor naob Sinn vorlaii;;to, 
ging leer aus, niusste aln^r sobr still soin. Nun jodenfulls 
nabui das Publlnnn imuior niobr in dor UolnTzougung: zu, 
da«8 KIh»I niobt dorjonipos4«i,dorcr«olioinc, dassUnbeilvollos 
im ]Iiiitor;;rundo lio;;o; da num nun iilM*rdioswusste, dassdio 
Anbanger KU'IV, nanicntlicb dor woibliobe Tboil, omsig mit 
Wcrbungcn siob iK'sobiiftigte, so waren Haus- und Familion- 
viitcr sebr waobsam ; donn es wurdc fiir oin Un^rliick geacbtet, 
wonn •lonnind in dioson Kreis horeingezo^en wurde. 

Wio whr siob das friibc sobon am biosigon Orle so ver- 
ballen halie, das lN*Z(Migon zwoi Druoksobriflon dos Ilorrn 
(?onsisturialralli Kabler; or 1 loss nfunliob indonJabron 1822, 
23, wonn iob nicbt irn», 2 llofte oinor Sobrift druekon, dor or 
den Titel: l'bila;;atbosgogol)on. In iroistreicbor, |?i*wandtcr 
und Icbcndigor Parstollun^, wio sie diosom ausgozeiobneten 
Manne eigentbundicb ist, wordon die innon*n Vorbaltnisse 
dicsor Verl>indun>r« namontliob Kbol in s(*inor Tondonz nicbt 
nur, Hondorn audi stdnem Tbiin naob ^^enau, ja fast portrait- 
bafi gezeichoot, Schoin und Soin dios%*r Soote wird pbiloso- 

V.\tTlin:BK IS KUSIUSHKltt!. 


pliiM-Ii illitl itliyHiulitffiiu'li M-liarf aufin'rai^l iim) iliirtligi-ruli 
(Icr ScliliiMt M(-Ut ciiK Si-i-m- ilnr. •lit- St-hri-i'L-ii uml V.aXfvM 
rrri't't iiixl ilm-ti koiii Firltini i»t. I>tiK K''<'>"K"'*^' "^vtAw-' 
dii'T^T Si'lirin. \fl ilii- |H«'liwliu KrliiKluiij-, Av cmlinliT 
im-lirjriir Xiclit* in l[i-jiii'liuii(tniir S:nli,ii mul IVi-.,ii,in 
hiolil iIiiiiiuIh <ii<- (;iinxiill;;i'iiit'iii<.- Aiiiiiiliiiii' in l>i>>i::<'r Si 
i:(<wi's<'i> mm-, ■l.-shiilii pih t^» iiiicli iHitii Ki^i'lu-iniii iIk 
8i'l>rifl k.-iii Uxilxn im<l k.iii /w.-ir.-tt.. w.t .-Inn mil .li.-< 
iKlrr jflK'i.i Ni..u,'i.. jii i.iil .lir-.T ...I.T ji-iKT Aml.nliUijr 

ilK'iiil M'ii) F..l]i.', > Utii .VII<-h vivlii..'l.r wur ^..^.r! Al 

kinr, wi-il Allm Kiivnr Allc» U-kmiiit war. wotiipilcns in 
VuruuMwlxaiii; uU iiniriiliwlii- UclH-m-ntcuiiK. »vnn »' 
N ion I and tliv jiiriiliwlti- xu Ecl>on vcnitii;n'i«l wnr, nwli 
n)(Cur uImt •li'inaml hd Ifirht i-n VfrmiN.-lit hullc wiv ilor 
tiaiinto VrrfanMT ilex I'liiliinatliiM aha ilcrvor ilcn Auf^■■l 
(JpixU-H wliwctH'iul<-ii WJrklirliki'il <lux Wi-m-iiiIu-IikIc hi-n 
KU|{n'ir>'ii iin>l iiiit jrim-liii-kifr, xii-lin'r lUinl <•« xiir fii 
Iti-lriti'liiiniK liiiixii>^t<'llrii. .III. CM ist liiK-liti incrkwiiniiir i 
fiir ili-ii (Tslvn An;{ci)lili('k knuiii i;lniiUlicli, dni'Ii hIht *\f 
wnlir uiiil oiiH ilcr i'l(fii iri-<i<-U'iii<n SiliildiTunir, wii' die .' 
Kliiilvr d<-H Kn-i^i's Ixlmndrlt w.>r<l<'ii .4in<|, U-^Trinirli. il 
In jem-r SclirilY .MuikIich doiillicli uiid iH'Hliiinnt nU mv 
VorK""li ■l"''" KftiHOH, iiN Thnti'iti-liL- niii^-p-lK'ii wunli-ii 
wn« iiiilcr dfn MilRlii-diTn wllwt Virjun, ja nollist wi 
VurKi'rui^'ktcrrn, x. It. OMiniiiH'n iind mir, uiiln'kauiit psvf 
{hI, wrriigKU-iiH dnHiab; dvnn k)iuUt halio icli uh alli-rdi 

Aliiit UiB liirrlicr ]li-niorktu Wiirlit sich li<dit:liHi auf F 
uiid wino Erkinriiiig, indct^st-n ist hii-mit niidi in drr T 
Alira Tiir din Krklilnint; dor m Ucdir MlcWndcii Kuclio iii 
bliMt Iwriitirt wiirdi'ii. Kotidvni wirklic-li ali;,^'tliaii ; dcnn 
crBchiiltcrmlo Wort Ludwid'n XIV. ' Vflal vVnl moi' Vm 
KWl in Itczii'buiift Biir di'ii von iimi |n-1dldrU>n Kn^ie iiiit 
(cninHcreni Itcchtc K]iri-clii-n. Nio, nnd das iHt dio Hlrpnp 
\Vttlirlirit, but cin llrxpiit willkurliclivr p-iiorrM-ht, iiiu 
jL-tinit('nt;oni'ruI mrmp'rcn (li'luirKnui jn^fiink-rt uiid crhal' 
niit fill riilixt *a lichiiL-ll uiid vii.-l knnoniHirt mid anntbom 
i»irt al8 Kiwi. 

Dotli iat von einifren nndiTvii i'cntonvn iiooh Erwubni 
2u ihun ; gb wird dicH kuri ^■m'hvbi'n kunncn, EUinal sie sc 
angcfiihrt nind und Kiniftt- iilwr vie bemerkct. Die IVr^o 
hImt, dt;ren irh rnx-li zii gcdi-iikuii hiibc, niml : die vcrHtorli 
Urufin vnii Kanlis t^f^t. von Dcrficlinii), din (]ra5n foii 
Urohcn, Oraf von Kanils, ItioMnl nnd inh m-IImL. 


1. l>ir iiiiHilirri;r«» (Jrafiii von Kuiiitz, v^vU. von DiT.-^cliaii, 
ist fli*^ riltrsic FriMindiii KIm'Ps p»\v«'srii. Ihr Vator. don ich 
|>€rsonlirli iiirbt p*kaniit IiiiIh'.imii prtMissischcr Major, schoint 
oil! Mann iI«t warkrrsti'n Art ir<'\v('srn zu H'in, von fronnnor 
rliri>tli«*lHT (t<*sinnnn;r, daiK'i alNT dcni Mystrriosen (im b<*s- 
U*n Sinno) otwa.s zn«rrn«'i;rt. Cliri.stlidi ('rz«»p'n, voni vor- 
HtorlM*n«'ii KrzMscliof von Hi»ro\vski unt«'rrichtca und cinpo- 
si'fciH't. U*rntr Krauloin von Porschau friilic, j<mIi»oIi orst (wrnn 
ich nicht im*) naclnhMn Toilr ilin-s VatiM's, Kiwi als IVcdigor 
konncn. Dor jun;r«', ^i^•llon^^ fruri;rr KcMlnor nuiclitc j;fros>on 
KindriR'k nuf sir, nnd Ao surhtc si'ino prrsonliclic Dckannl- 
H'liaft. Ilior wnnlt* sir. iniic, dass sir vch'Ikt das CliriMcn- 
tiaini pir niciit p'kannt iial>f ; in drr That crhiflt si«' baUl 
ein niMirs. Sio liattt? als hrritrstr Hasis ihriT Natiir cino 
i*tnrke 8innli«*hkrit, zu dt*r sich als j^cistijrc* Anla^e i^ino srhr 
n\trsunu\ durch kt*in<Mi ^riindlifhcMi UnttTricht ^err^^cltc 
IMnintasii* p'srlltr. In dtT Mitte ihrrs Wesrns island cine 
prosso llcrzcnsfrcnndrn'likcit ; sic S4»|l»st sa^tc, nic sci zur 
Wollnst pcncijrt. Khcl hcruhiirtc sic, indcni cr ihr iKrjrrciHich 
inafhtc, jcnc an sich sci nicht Siindc, sic wcrdc cs nur, wcnn 
sic voni Fciiidc p'niisshraucht wird, durch die Krkcnntniss 
d«T Wahrhcit wcnic sic pchcili;rt und znrcdicn W«*scnhaftijr- 
kcit crholM'n. Kriihcr wnnlc sic niit »SchrMilicrr dnrch Khcl 
U'kannt ; sic phnihtc, sic sci das %n jcn(*ni pdi«»rigc V/cih, 
sah jcdoch s))atcr ihrcn Irrthuni cin. (lanz und par Kind 
rrpelMMi, in ilini das llochstc crblickcnd und vcrchrcnil, wurdc 
sic zu cincr viillkoninicncn zwcischncidipcn Kanntikcrin. Mit 
ihr zucrst hat KIm*! die sopcnnnntcn pcscddcchtlichcn Hcini- 
gunpcii pciiht, und wic RUd niir crztihlt, wurdcn dicsc zucrst 
von ihr zur Sprnchc pcbracht und cinpdcitct. Sic, cin stark 
fdnnlichcA Wcih und lanjrc in pcschlcchtlichcr Krrcpunp 
durch die sopcnanntcn Kciniuunpsactc crhaltcn, niusstc die 
Khcfrau cincs Miinncs wic Kanitz wcnlcn, wcil es crniittcit 
wurdc, dass sic lUddc scldcchthin zusaninicnpchorcn und 
Kwar cl>cn dadurch, dass sic die In^idcn Zcupcn warcn, von 
dcncn in dcr Apokalypsi? pcsprochcn ist. Mit Frcude pinp 
sie das Khehiindniss cin, drndi 8chr bald sprach sic ihr innip- 
Htcs Mitlcidcn iilHT Kanitz aus. Nur wcnipc Jalirc Icbtc sio 
vcrhetrathet, und in den letztcn Stundcn ihrcs Lcbens, in wol- 
chcn ich bis zu ihrcm Vcrschciden bei ihr pewesen und sie 
bcnbachtct hal>c, hat sic wohl eino Ix'deutcnde V'crandcrung 
crfahrcn. KUd niindich hatto mit cincni unendlichcn Kcde- 
Btronio in 8io hincingcrcdet, ihr BcBtellunpcn nach dcni Ilini- 
imd lM*sonders an den llcrrn Christ us (wic cr cl)cn dort ifit) 


aufgotr»)^('ii, iin«l si«* ihn eni|)frinf;li<*h liin«;rUM)(linul mifinerk- 
sani, diiiin \Vi'iiightt*ii8 {rt'<liii<li;c »ii^<'ii<»i'i ; iniii uUt liat ho 
ihn, iinie zu Lultcii uiul ilir das lu'ilip; AlHMulinahlzu riMchcii, 
nai'li Ui'lrhcni t»io vcrlaiip*. l)a it iiIht iiiit jeiicn KciU'tifort- 
fulir, so wurtlfii ilire iiiuoii tlriii^ciKUT, ciiiUich p'bot siv ihm 
Stillscli\vc'iv?on uiid diu sc*ld«Mnii^(» Koii'liuii<; dfs MahloH. 
Diesc Handliiii>; wurde nun kirrhlirh vollxn^on; sir, diuliiMi 
Ridir UTuln^ct, sprach krin luutos Wort nirlir, mK*li uurhli(*iiH 
Hie zu hifli rediMi, sondcrn l>lirl» ini tirfsttMi, :induclitip«U*u, 
Hiillrn (jclK'te n<K*li nifdiro Stundrn, und vorschiod suiifl. Icli 
hiilm dio nionilisclii! und fi*ste UcU'rziMi^un};, dass (i«»tt ilir 
rodlichos llrrz ungrstdicn und oInmi in dirs4*r Irtztm Sliuitlo 
v\v von allrnt Irrtliuuii; ^^clicilt liaU*. Uulie und Friiilt^ sci 
\\\\i ilir! 

2. (iralin ida von dcr (iioIhmi. Mrlnvrfs und niciit Uii- 
Wi'sentlit'lu's isl InToits ini Vcrlaurr dioMT l>arsti'liiui}i; zur 
Urzi'iclinung ihrcr aus;(rzrii*hni*ten IVrsonliclikril k'lnrrkl 
wordon, cini^vs p*\viss jnlm*}! zu «*inrr voilkonnnenvii Clm* 
rnktrristik niclit /ureii'li«Midt*s muss nocii hinzujci'rii^t wcnlcii. 
Si'hoii in iiiHT roniantist*li-pliantasiiH*h«*n Zt*it, die Imh zu 
ilir«M' nahercn VtTliindun^ mil Kind ii*icht, war in ilir I'iiH' 
Ix'sundrn? Cliaraklrrslarko zur frslrslon Ausfiihrunjcp'fa"'!^^*''' 
Vorsalzt! ausj^i'hildfl. Sio, whr jun^ Vi*rlu*irathi*t, voa iins- 
Herst zarteni Kor^HTbau, von Nalur iti^rontlich whr weidiU'li 
(was nicli auch nacli iliror so ^cnannton Krwfckun;; umi ai<* 
8ie sclion vollkoninien ^olicili};!, die ueue Xailur an«;ezu{;t*n 
hatle, wifderuin sehr deutlirh zei^lo), fand es fiir ein rilUT- 
Holies Weil) un^ezieniend, iiInt kor|>erliche Leiden zu klajri'ii. 
oiler wohl ^ar Sclinierzenslaute auszustossen. Sic fasste (Uli^*< 
i\M\\ V'orsatz, audi in der 8tunde der (jieburtsnotli sicii koiiit'H 
Schnierzenslon enlscliliipfen zu lassen, und so ftdirtu hIc n 
aueh aus, obwold, sidion als Hrstj(<*barende hoehst leideii<l,>^i< 
aueh noeh eine kiinstlielieljeburt zu ubersleiien liatte. Nad 
vielen Jaliren, als sie laii^^c sehon *' im nt'uen lA^lien*' K( 
Htanden liatte, lilt sie an einer kleinen KiteransaniinlunfC uiitt 
oineni lliilinerau^«!; es mussto Ktwas o|>erirt wenlen, alu 
die ^anze Operation war keine andere, als die bei gewolii 
lielien lliilinerau^i^en ; dixdi erfasste sie Fureht und Zaj^M), ni 
bat untl iN^chwor niicli, doeli nur ja n.'elit selionend und vu 
Hieliti;^ zu verfabren. Ich fiiiire dies an und tVi^c zu^dcii 
etwas Allgenieines liinzu, weil niir hierin etwas Cliaraktc 
istisches, uicht bios der einzelnen Person, sondern der pinK 
Vcrbindunfi; und ibres innerliehen Zustaniles zu liegen scheii 

^Mt fast ao Jabren Htjbe icb taglich Krankc, scit 2G tlahr 



l»in irli Arzt, nir nWt lml»o Irh im krntikon Ziistondc IVr.sonon 
wrirhlirhrr mid rurcht^taiiKT, ja iinrli niir so wcirhlirh inid 
fiirrlitsaiii Av\\ iMMichiiiCMi }r<*solirii uls olirii ilio Mit^lirder 
(iirsos Krt'isrs. niid zwar siiul sic rs in (i(*ni Maiissi* niolir, jo 
h«)her nic* iiii Krt'iso ht(*licn uiid hii'Ii wirklich (U'IiisoIIhmi in- 
nrrlirli »ii}r<'S(*liloss(Mi IiuImm). OiMMiiin in dicscT ]k*/.iohunf^ 
Htnml KIn'I S4'lhst, dniiii fol^tr (irafin Ida von d(T (iro.licn. 
Sic* iinlNMi naiiilii'li die* UolHTzni^rimfr, dosH uiicli ihr liC'ili 
niinnirhr riiu* viri hiilirn* Hrdriitiini^ hnlN\ iilN*nli(*H in Hieh 
wlbst »<o vrnMk'lt niid drr nmon Nntiir nn^<*nipsst'n w*i, diiH.H 
^ar ni(*lit p*p*n ilui zii kiiinpfon, 8(*ino (irfiildo nirht zu un- 
tiTilriif K(*n iind niclit zu iilMT\vind<*n sri«Mi, wnhl aUT niiisstcn 
Hit* Inn ansH*rst sor^rfrdti^ lN»\valirrn nnd srhiitzon ; dai?c;?t*n 
hIht tn*n*r sii* Klwas. das iiin da.^Jcnip* sjrli Iwwi'^t, was sic 
di** Sa<*lu«, ilirr Sarlir, (■•»tlrs Sai'ln' ncnncn, iind iTfordrro 
flirs rint^ rclMrnahnK^ kor|MTli«'lHT SclinuTZi'n, uurli dor 
;rr«isslrn, so wurdrn v\i* p»wiss rulii^ un<l htandliaft er- 
tra;r«*n. I>o<'h icli will Hc'Imt nirlit wcitcr im plurnl redcn ; 
df»nn wr<lrr von K1m»1 wlbst, nwli von Kanitz, norh von 
IHf'sti'l ^rlniilHv It'll rs rrclit, von tlor Orafin v. d. (iriibcn isl 
«»s al»or jfi'wisH, iind «»lH'n so liattrn sirli dir viTstorliono (jndin 
von Kanitz und in jcloiclicT Wrisr Kri'iuloin Kinili** v. iSdiriittrr 
vorlialton. Nnn alnT falin* icli f«»rt : dicsr Frau, dicso wahr- 
littft edit* Natur hat in KIm*] A lies orhliokt, A lies gt^fundcn 
und crlialtrn. was si«' ir^oiid sirh hat orsi'hon konncn ; (T ist 
ihr (tfru'htrr, ihr Mann, ihr KrloViT, ja, wic* I'.s in irgrnd 
«*in('ni andcrcn /usaniiiHMihanp* gar nicht nioglirh ware, ihr 
(lott ; cT ist ihr fnhalt auf Krdrii und im llimmcl ; fiir Zcit 
und Kwij^keit ihni zu diiMUMi, ist ihr I'Vrihrit ; iliin ein Opfer 
zu bringon, ware ihr das Ilerzblut uiehl zu thrucr; Hondern 
das Licbsto, ihm sich ]iiiiziigidK*n, ganz, widorstandlos ; in 
ihiii vollkommcn sich zu v«*rli«TiMi — was kiinnto ihr Ilohercs 
lM»j;cgnon, wio konntc sic si'lbst 8ich besser und vorodelter 
ruiptindon und findiMi, als in ihm I und wiirdo Kbcl ihr 
8ap*n : i,lda, grhe hin und sonko dioscm Mrnschcn don Dolch 
iu's Ilorz" — nil? wiirdo ihn nur anblickvn, um zu ^ohon, ob 
cs Kcin Krnst sei ; fandc sio dios, go ginge sio hin und thalo 
es ; ist or donn Monsoh, dass or irron konnto 1 Ja, sio Ihatc 
niohr, niohr wonigstons als Solbstopfor: wiirdo ihr Ebcl 
Kagon : „Ida, goho hin. liolio dioson Monsolion und gicb dich 
ihui als Woib hin," aurh dies wiirdo sic, wenn viollcieht auch 
untor Thranon.abor doch ohnc alien Zwoifol uud in willigstem 
G(*horsam thun. 

l^aM8 diesf* 8ehilderung vollkommon wahr und f«obr massig 


rMTIilEHK IX KOX/O'.'iliLh'i;. 

■Uk;r<'drii<-kt mii, ilavi'n liiii ii'li inni^»t iiinl ilurrli ilii> frt-imiii' 
Ki'nnlMioM rlH-ii iIJvmt IVra irilti'likoit iilifm'tt^rl. '/Mruum 
M-hmi'lirii iitiiHH rn-ilii-)i y-^vr t' i)lH-fiir);rfii>' ilnriiliiT, Jih 
alMT iiiK'h, <1<T (luiici dcnkl, wan vin iitcnM-lilirlH-n lien 

mill wiiH fim- r «clilk-hc S«t1i', winl iM-kenitcn mui>M-n, >li 

■ li<'»r» llirx, ilii'HV Sii'lf fin (i>'|c<'iii't>iiMl wiiri|i)r-T Itclra 
Hint: ..'i uml iiiniuot.T Tli<-ilim!iini' : u»<l NiVmiui<l wirti In 
Irnil niij(i-iu 

I A 111' I. 

)•')) ' 

I'hII>-ii Kii k.iniH-ii. AUt «.•]»■ .I.-.I. WTllilir-T ! .T I.Ht di. 
ttlli> 8i-i'l<'. ilii-M'H in-ufvotu lltTit <li-ll fittwuiili-t, iliiii vit 
■tiiii-n-n himiniri-loi'i'ii! 

KU'ti ilirw llili)ri-liuiifi nlNT, ilii' ff-wiM rln-ii im> hti 
^p-wiilih niH Htttr>'ii<iniiii<-ii wcnli-ii miIIU'. ir>t xii t'imTiH'linr 
K>'HH-I fiir KM H-ll-si p-WMr<lcii. [K'iih titJl ilvr (criW 
Sln-iip- richl mill ilic Unirin v. il. (iriiUii ttk-tit tnir ilnn 
iliiK" Mi'iKAiiil mil' il<-iii Kn'iM' iliv lii-f^lf. JH nilil fi,.i')itl 
iriiltlii'liiT Klinrliictuiiic mill iiiiln-iliutrti-ll <it-liursniii i 
vi'i-wi-ip-n-. buihUtii it w|lii-t ilnrf Kirli ki-incn Aiigi-nlil 

uin MoH KtnUlmlirl.rr M.-ii^ili xu V'iii ; •lir- wirU »>)fl<' 

Nnlur fCiMJi'iiti't ; miiiT "I'lir rivtimllirlKT l^rlM'nliiiii; ■■'"' 
rr ilami bucU I'iiic yiMu- .MiiinuiiiK »ti iiml (riit do^'lrii-h 

Uii- St.llmi|i »U v..llkiT .li.-r .M.ti-ili wi.-.kir .-in. Oir.n 

it)>cr iK IT ill <U-iii Wiilmc, ilcn cr h-IIikI aiiH^'Hiri-iil (an i 
rr M-IJMt i><-iiifT Sell Inn lii'it mi'l >iii.4.«vrliclii-n Ti'ndiux n 
iiii-iiinlf rvHt irrKliiii'it lint). itDiixT ciieit uml i-ninT fii 
H'hIor'M-n IIII.1 Kt-I>mi<t>'ii- ^^iV xK'"!. wit- i-m nun <>iniiiiil in 
fcuwonli'ii. vrrimii; tiirlii iiiiil< i-r< />i iliiikiri. xii mIk-ii 

Sii liiiiKl-liii kiiiJi.- ilir riri,' Siimm.-v lli>iim.'l mil • 

y.arufii: " KK-I liul <ii.-li r-'l.""-''!''. I">ir..^.-ii. ir i-l 
Ali'iiwh. jn Hn wlir (■iiii.lliiifl.-r iiriil viTHilmiiixKr .Menw 
Mp wiinli- ihni aln rim-m ri'iiiiilii-ln'n. niM ili-r IIi>lk' k"iitiii' 
nii'lit filaulH-it; ilrnn hie JKt iilMT»'U)ct, ihrt-n iiininiliM 
>'rruiul iiml Krliiwr. (U'im-ii Wcilt xii M-iii sic Jn ilic h' 
Ik'MininiuiifT hut, frrrunilpD, mil Aiifti-n ^rt-wlim uriil inliriiii 
iimfidilunprii xii liitlH-n. tmil it jut Iwi ilir, tmil xio iM 
ihra I L'litl Hiir in liiifuT ft-Hli'ii UcIhTiIi -11^11 n|c kaiin nio 
wlhst fuMM-h uml iH'^rrfiri'ti; unliT j<iUt amliTfii Ihilin)! 
luiirtsli- sif (.ich ju wlbwl h|!< ciiic l'r.*liiuinc lM'tr«rlitr-ii 
veraliwlu'uon ! t'ri'ilidi wiinli^ K1h-I Ht'llmt ><i.'ini'ii iimcr 
II'K-linmth nur mo wcit tirrclicn kiinm-n. iim voii item li 
I^Ieml, dun cr uu sich angi-ricliUit, gcriihrt uad erweidi 


wprdcn, wiirdo cr danii iioch ctwas tiofer in Fich blickon, 
mit welrher 8rhlanp*nlior/j;rcn Kiiltc er es ziijcrvlasscn, iiva^A 
HJch Stn'inic \\vv warinstiMi \Av\ni uIht iiiri «'rp>sM'n, nhtic iIuha 
er eiiicii Luiit ilrr Walirlii^it, ciii Wurt iiK'tischlii'lier 
Aiifrichtifrkrit ziir KrwiiHirriiiif? grsjicMHlct, wiinli* os ihni 
flann vi<*ll«Mcht ziiiii crritc!! Male scit Jangor, lanp*r /oil 
liaiip! (111^8 llrrx iiihI sclilu;;^ Aii^!<t in mm no vorlitirtote 
Stt'lu cin: — dann wiinlc er w«dii vor Allen zn ihr, zn dieter 
I^«*t4iiisrl)ten, edlen Frau liineilen, ilir %u Fiissen mil dem 
Jii'kenntnisse ntiirzen, dass er ein selir Hcliwai'lier, tief 
ver>rlinldeter, nn^liicklirlKT Menscli, dessen drei Kardinal- 
IjUhter, Anp^enlnst, Fleisi'lieslnst nnd liotVarti^res Wesen, si'in 
Innerstes zeruiildt, dasH er ein liochnuitliiger, wulliistiger 
und verrtehniitzter Pf'atVe >iei I Aeh, dass er es tliatc I hio 
wiirde ibni f]^lauU*n nnd ihni ver(^elx;n, Knhe aber und Verge- 
bnn«r Tiir nieh scliisl ^nelien nnd linden, wo nie nllein nur zu 
Huehen nnd zn linden nind, Imm d(Mn allbannlierzigen Uott; 
ihr llerz wiirde stark genng sein, uni dit^sen biirlesten 8eldag 
zu ertrajren ; drnn .sie ist stark, tind es konnte ilir der Trust, 
l>cini tSueben <b*s(jnten nml Wabren in die tiefst*^ Tiinsebung 
gestiirzt worden zn s(>in, nielit entgeben. Kinstweilen tbut 
jecbwli KIm»I etwas Anden's: er iN^lianptet sieli in seiner 
Truggestalt, bisst sieli von seiner Unip*bnng nnd gewiss am 
Meisten von der U*kla};enswertben Uriilin v. d. (ir«ilN?n die 
tiefste Adoration gefallen, riibint seine Keusebbeit und 
Keinbeii, und kein nienseblicb wabres Wort koniint* iil>cr 
tHMue lii]>)K*n. 

3. (iraf von Kanitz. Seine ]Vrsr>n1irbkeit ziebt zunacbst 
dureb iMilde, sodann dnreli si>ine feine Sitte an, welebe ein 
gitieklicbes Krbtbeil vieler IVrsonen au8 den biiberen Standen 
ist. Si'in Cbaraktcr bat nicbts Ostensibles, nein (jeniiith 
nicbtri Widerstreliondes. Al)er man kann ihn langc gekannt, 
ibni sebr nabe gestandon baWn, obne otwan ToHitives in 
ibui gefnnden zn baljon ; man kann bei vullstandiger und 
nicbt unangenebmer |)orsliidieber Krscbcinung nicbt leerer 
vun allem |H;rcK>nliebcn Inbalte sein, als cr C8 ittt Mao kann 
niebt cinmal sagon, cr sei unselbststandig; dcnn man tindet 
gar kein Selbst, dem er innerlieb folgen, oder von dem er 
toieh cutfernen kiinnte. DalNM obne griindliebe Kenninisso 
irgend einer Art, also obne Stiitznng innerlieb, obne fcston 
Aobalt au88erlicb. Seine Jugemi fallt in die Zeit, in wclcbcr 
die Alteu selbst sicb jugendlicb erweekt fublten, die Jugcnd 
nlH*r zur nMnstcn Flammc der VaterlandslielH5 anfgeloderl 
und vuu eincm allgemeiueu religioscD Gel'iible crgriQ'cu war. 


Von dicsom finmnl.H in ^nnz DiMitwIilaiul, voraiiiflich »lior in 
unHTin Vatorlando wchrndrn Gi'lsto ist niu'h or nHch dem 
Mnas^Ht* soirnT Kiiipfaiifrliolikoit In'riilirt \vonl<'n; er maoiite 
don Fold/.njr mil iind krhrto mil oinrr niililariwhon lK»k(v 
ration /.iiriick. Kinc hoIcIio INTHinhVlikril hnt nun Uhh 
natiirlit'lio Ht*diii*fnisf< xur Anlrimun^ p*p*n oinm Andeni, 
nur wrihK hIi* froilirli nirlit «lio nvliti; r.u Hiwhon und xu 
lindon, jodiMifalls win! hic wIIht vi«'l loirhtrr hinprnomnrn 
von A micron, die Alwichton, j^ulc imIct iiiile, haW'ii und 

Kanitx frInuUt, EIh*I jrofundon xn lial>on, in Wahrhcit al»cr 
hat KI)oi Kanitr. pMionunon. Misj*hV|irro8ja Unpiiicklirhorw 
htittc 8ich fiir Kanilx \^vit nirlit oriMfrnon kiinnon ; drnn, an 
einon 8o aliHirhtsvolion, vornatilon Mann anp*schlo»iM4Mi, war 
jotlr Mii^liclikoil fiir ihn vrrloron, irpond wann odor ipond wo 
einon Sohworpiinkt in Hie!) Holhtit xu Ondon Und dir^ aurh 
ini in dor That viilh';; untorhlioU^n. Kanitx voriun)? NicJitS 
und thut Niohtri, ais fort und fort ^loiohnani dio Ijcotion auf- 
va^on, dio Kind ihni nufgo^olKMi, nioht zu lornon, Hondonidio 
Worlo Holhst hind nutp*pd»on. da** darf nur atiffroHajft wenloii, 
und dioH ist m'it nichr aln 2() Jahn^n das nusjtrldicshliclie 
Tiuin doH (irafon v. Kanitz. l>onn das int froilioh oinrrloi, 
oh or Faj^t und thut wan Kind, ocUt (hirch ihn dio Urrdinv.d. 
(iriibtMi, <MU'r iry^ond Joniand dor zu KUd frohiirt und dwh 
solhst nooli irpMid Ktwan ist, ihni zu snp*n chUt zu tliun auf- 
jropdMMi. Ks kann daht'r aHordin^s h4>}rar possiorlioh crvt'lici- 
non, wonn Joniand, dor wio (iraf von Kanitz so puiz und par 
don Kindniok ahsohitor Sohwiioho niaoht, Hioh starkor Auh- 
driioko U'diont ; c« orkh'trt sioh nln^r f^anz loioht dailuroIi,d»>« 
hie zur U'otion pohort»n. Mit oinom Worto, oh kann oiin'nt- 
lioh voin (rrafon von Kanitz jjar nioht als von oinor liohtinini- 
ton ^oiHtipMi Individualitat dio Uodo hmu, und v\w.\\ nurdit'H 
ist's, was hior idnT ihn biMuorkt wordon nius»te. Winl oinsi 
Kind ontlarvt soin, thinn wird Kanitz %vio nus oinom Traunic 
orwaohoii und dann oin fb'nulioh hunnloHor, widdwuUoiidor, 
giitigor iMonsfdi noin, donn dozu liat cr die natiirlicho IJo«lint« 
mung und den roinon Zuf^ dos IIcrzouH. His dahin 8agt und 
thut or, wan KI)ol ihni l>cfiohIt. 

4. Dor Trodipor Dicstol. Wcdcr oine ticfo, noch w?hwie- 
ripo, nooh vorwiokolto Natur, ist's donnotrh nchwor, iiWr die- 
8011 Mann zu rodon, wonn oh daruuf nnk«)nirat, ihn psycholo- 
Kisoli zu charaktcri8iix*n. Kh wollon sioh numlioh luezu nicht 
loioht und nuoh nioht, wcnn man HorgfAltip: Pudit, AuHdriicko 
findcn, die bczeichncud warcu und docb Dicht eotwoder doa 


Ani^tand rtwas vrrlrtzcMul mlcr dm Vcrdflrht orrofr**!"!, dasa 
HO nliiir Noili 7A\ Htark j«c»ion. In nolrlicr Vrrl(»jfcnlii»it i«t man 
iinnirr, wciiii man unMiindi^ und wahr ripnTlien h(»I1 von Per- 
Minen, jrojrtMi wclrln' Nirlitrt un>r«*zi«*m«*nd<'r H«»in kann, ali» 
UnjronM'HA'nrr, unnnii-^igor, <Klrr wold j^ar mlior Anndrurk. 
Voii Verirrunjn'n, jsrHj-^t von ticn tiof«<UMi, ja Mo^ar von ofTen- 
liaron Schlrclitijfkcitrn kann man. wrnn rn ^v\\\ musH, vor«ion 
p>l»ildHstiMi un<i W\\\ jrrj*innt«*n IVrnom'n olmo Vrrlcp*nli»it 
Hjin^'luMi ; drnn jonc irmffo liozirlirn nirh anf nittliche 'Aw' 
Htilndr, dir zii iM^trarlitrn oft fin Hittlichcs (icIxU, nicmaln al)or 
iinwiinlig, am Wrni^xtcn widcrwUrtig t^cin kann ; daii (jlc- 
inrine alM*r rrr**pt Kki*l. 

Man drnkr !«i«-li cinrn Mann von oinor unirtMncinrn natiir- 
lirlicMi <iir«ddHMl und rincm lirfti^r poltrrndtMi Wi'^^cmi, dcr id)on 
iiiir ill hokdirm Anfalircn nnd AnlaHS(*n Andcror 7m\w (lO- 
nililr iMjrncr Tiirhti^kcit zii p^lanp'n vmna;^ ; daboi, wio 
liartr nnd rolit* Mrnsrlirn immcM* zn mojti pMc^cn, oinr knoHi* 
limdic Natur, d. Ii. in nrhmntzi^ror rntrrwrrfnng nirh wold 
prfalU*nd, ucnn nic nnr anssrrlialh dirsrr Htdhcn /lilimnng 
AlloH anfalir«Mi utid an^rrrifon kann, ja wold zum TIhmI hiozu 
von iIiT eijrnrn lirrrHidiaft lici^timmt Wx. Innrrlirh vorwor- 
rt'n, ]>latt Hinnlich.allr >roisti*r»*Tliati^kfit nurunti'rdrr Form 
<1«*H StHMtcH nnd ilirson nrlhst nur als rohrn /ank lK*gn*iriMid 
und iilNMid — drnkt num nirli rinrn Sok'lirn, ho liat man die 
allsrcmrim* (irnndlafriMlcs Hcrrn riMMlipT J)iosti»l, di«» fivilich 
krinr zu i»in<*m rein monscldiclifn, no'h wiMnjfiT afuT zu 
riniMn anzi<dirndon Charaktcr \M, Km mnss aluT nocji Jiinzu- 
pMiommrn wrnirn : vv liatte friilior Jnra Htndirt, dann alxT 
Hi«*h znm Stndinm dor Thndo^rji* ^^rwrndot ; wiilirrnd dirnoH 
StudinniM, noidi auf dor UnivorKitat ist or mit Solr.inhorr in 
Vorbindnn^ p*troton iind, von dif\som aU oin Kngol an.s dor 
Apokalypso orkannt, lloinrioli Siojrolbroolior g«Miannt wordi'n. 
Wio wonig tiof odor nur mit wissonsoliaftliohi'm Krnstordio. 
Tlioologic Htudirt, zoigt ol»on noine friilin Vorhlndung nut 
Sohiinhorr, wio wonig or aU'r auoh fiir nioh innorlioh hingu' 
golMMi iiat, bowoist s^-ino Tn«nnung von Solionliorr Iwim Kin* 
Iritt in'8 goixtlioho Anit. (Landgoi^tliolion, anoli mohren whr 
voluminoMMi Uolohrnng^l»ricfon, dor kloinMo fiilltc oin ziom- 
lioli starko!^ (jnarthofr, dio Franloin von 1)or»*ohau, ppatorc 
(•nirm von Kunitz, ilim gonoliriohon, antwortoto or wcdor 
niiindlioli n<H*li s<*lirirtltoli ; donn sio drang auf ilin mit gro^- 
pem Krnst, mit ontMoliodonor. fn'ilioh |diantastisohor Scinlrfo 
eiD, und da zog sioh tlonn noino foigo Natur ziiritok, wie mau 
ja sogar von bouet wiidcn und rcisbcnden Tbiercn erziiblt, 

rMTIllKHK IX KosmsHKita. 

iln'iH »!>■ •lim-)i rrilHrlilosH-iioil. I'nixt liii'liM'liliilHii Kli 
ili.' Fluflil (.'.■! rirln-n wirilcii.) *>o Huii>lt-lif vr ilcnn 
hit). VDii Wriiiifi'ii Intitrrkl, dIkt, w'w it nnililiir vix 
hcllmt xiir Kr»'"^-ii lt«-H-l)w<-nl.-<I>>>-csaiiiiiliiin'iili 
rnuiltltc, itt )rr«»MT Si>r)!liwi|tki-it iiiii M-iiii-n niitliilK'i 
hIuikI. iti iniffaT 1 1 itiK>'l>uii;r un M'iiM' Sintilii-itki'it. AIh' 
lirli witr iliiii nir siin Anil itrii A titci-im-i^M-iiKtvii iii»l 
Niiliir mil Kiiuiin-i'ln-iiilxd'n, iliikx vr i-in ln-rii); )H>lti 
rntli^rir Ulii'ti, uml hii-xu war fih.- il<>KiiiniiH-ti<- Aii" 
Mill); nn ilio kiri'htU-h>> (><>xii> mil l!iiiii>-iii>1rii, i 
r iii.l.-r V.Tl.ii 

srii U- 



liii .liilin- II 
trill cTwinlerui 
JtiliM-li, iiuwrrlii'li 
ill ■■iiiip-iii ZiiKiiti 

Pi W-ir 

I >i'lM-iiil 
I (». 



nll'-s AiKli-n-ii ilu^ 

I'll iiirl.i ii-r.'. aii.'l, ,»'li. 
I- VvriiiiiilitiijtiiiiiKlH'l, 
I «iir wi 



...l.l S 

unit lirlHl 


Pit lllllli'l 

t linflir 

Kh w,.r 

. It. II 


; I^'IK 

iilur mii'li 

j..|/t n 

ii'iiliiit)tr>- ):>-lilii'lH-ii wur. Dos Nii 

ii>.. H'iiii' K'-iir .InrKiilliiin. war i-iii l' iliM Kri'iwM, uin viir iliiiiii 

'k.'nT>ti.i>'>H' uLlNlrm-li. nU vii'lllii'kr H 

riiiiii' v.xi SiiriiK'ii aiiH sii-li liiTaii''»ill 

in. Wo* r i\a* wirklirln- Tl,mi a.i 

•III lK-,^:.>ii.l.'n-» AlikoMi r> mil sii-ii pli 

■ III ^viitlii-t. Tiil>uk Kii ruticlicii ol 
;.rt-i JKiitc IT nil' p-iiinn, I-li^k-r... m'I 
H'li r..ri. Wit- nU T irkliirl it •ti.*? <': 
cs. iim M.'li vor ^i<-li H'llMt %u il.-ii.iiii,ii:.ii uml Hcli iin 
ilrrip-fillili' zii iTlinltt'ii, Kh wur nniiT teliuor vc 
KiiiiliT xii xi'iiRi-n v'.r iliT vfilliKi-n \VM'ili.r(rfl'orl {ui 
ilii'MT wnr ki'iii iiiriniilii-lifx (Jlitit dcx Knipi-H— vr 
itirli, iiilt Aiihiinlinio KIh'I'h — (rclmifri); DiiHiiI U'il|I1< 
iIit; wnriiiii T wii' i-rklilrl oriliinF i-n i^i aliM-lKulirli. 
nr. n>HT rx iliriic iliin, ch fiilm- iim iinnii-r licr<T in iliV 1 
xi-iit.'iiiiir M'ini r Scimadthvit, uml ilnsM vr iininiT wii'il 
viirn mirniip'ii miiiiiio. 

Nirmiimi iiii Knim- vtTkannle iliii lUiimlM, man khIi i 
flii,-ii «l,r,li.l„.n .Mim-rljin «ri; KM tral' «i<-li ni 
wciiiif, ili<' Aiiilin'ri uiifrcm nli ; ilii! Il<'iii'licli>i liift uIh 
So iiii UiiiiKi'ii lilii'l) rr, uikI oo bliuli ih mil iliin bix in 
nirini-!' Aui'M<'liiiili-nr' aui^ ilicwm Kn-iw, im Ait<[iiHl 
Kin Jnlir ')titl(T ha1)on fidi anclt OlxlmuKun uitd r. T 
hin-li mm ilirMT ViTliimiiinx iicniuit)ffluti|, nml <lu n 
vulii rnthnain war, iui Kn-itut m-Hihi vini(^t I'niHintiutH 



zuiioiimon, so iimp I>ic*strl \V(»hl ym piin?r liJ'»heron i:^t('lll^l}^ 
bcrufcn wordcii M*in. Docli katin irh iintiiriicli nieht sagcu, 
Wi'Ichr lH»soiidfr<^ Aufpiiicinuii ihia jji'slellt, wulclu'd U'son- 
dtTc Ami man iliiii iilN-rtrupMi halieii mug: gewis*ri inir ist, 
dasH cT iiichtrt AiidiTcri tiiuii konnte, aU wu^ii er fahii^ iM, 
uiid was cr dcnn aiich wirklich, »«> weit oh zur ufTeiit lichen 
Krricbfiniiii^ p^wordcii ist, gcthaii hat: er int unghiuhlich 
;rroh, ntifahrond, )Hdti*rnd, schtnuheiid gewoHon, und iiutiir- 
I'wh ganz niisdnu oInmi niihor aiigcgidHMion tnktiHchfii I'l'liicip 
gcgni deii TtMifcl, d. h. vr U'zng sich ontsidiiodfii liigfiid uiif 
Uas Znigtiiss (iMltos, dciu cr ja dioiit(% wviiii cr im Kaiiipfe 
l^rgoii dm Touf«*l h>g. 

l)av(»n wiiiiiiiclt rs in sriniMi Srhriflcn pogon Olt^hansfn, 
<lio in d(*r That nnr Si'hniiilisi'hrifU'n sind, von ilini JfMhx'h 
kniftigr, ja ersrhiittrrnih^ grnannt wrrdiMi. Tiu'lls ans soiniT 
^atur, thviirt a))or ann dor verkchrtoston Anwondung soinor 
jiiristisohon Stndion, Init or sich eine dor widorwurtigsliMi 
ArttMi nhnohin srhoii iinwiirdiiror nnd vrrarhtlichtT llabulis- 
torrion hirr ausgohihiot, widcho ihni nun als Waffo zur Vor- 
tboidigung, ja als Sttdlvortrotorin frosutidor Logik dienen 
uiuK.s i^o WW ihni die ziigonos4'sto (jrohht^it als 8urrogat dor 
Kntschiedrnhoit gilt. iKudi irh hroclio ah ; d(>nn es ist in der 
Thai unnioglioh, u'Ikt dioson Mann gozioniond zu rodon, wonn 
man nieht in oino Ausdruckswoise gorathen soil, die* man 
8<*lhst ol»on so unziondieh fiir^H Aussprechon, als t'ur das Ver- 
mdimcMi halton nuiss. 

5. Kndlich soUto hicr noch Kiniges uInt mich sellmt hemorkt 
wordon. Dnss ich cs al)cr nirht untrrnchnion werdo, cino 
Sehilderung von mir sclhst zu ontwerfcn, vorstoht sich von 
Hdbst Donn von Vorziigcn, dio irh otwa hruto, zu nnlen, 
Ware widcrwiirtig, und mich gogrn dio Anklago Kln^rs und 
Kdnor Anhungor zu vorthoidigon, unwiirdig. Soil oinom 
Viortol Jahrhundort lol>o ich an hiosigoni Orto als Arzt, soil 
20 Jnhron alsakadoniischor Lolm»r Iwidor hiosigen Univorsi- 
tlit ; OS gioht koino Klasso dor Kinwohnor hier, die mioh nioht 
konnt, mit i\vv ioh nioht in niihoror odor ontfornteror IJozio- 
hung gowoson ware; os konnon nuoh nioino Mithiirgor, moine 
Boruffi- nnd Amtsgonosson, os konnt mioh iihrigons auch 
Dontsehlanil als wissonsohaftlichon Sohriftstellor mcinos 
Faohs. Miigon Andon\nn*»gondio, wolclie mioh konnon niiis- 
scD, oin Urthoil iibor nn^inon mensohliolion, sittlichon, hiirgor- 
lichen und wissenschaftliohen (-harakter aussprocheu, mogon 
Hie ontsrhoiden, oh das, was FIIm*1 und die Seinon iibcT und 
gi>gen mioh unsgosagt halM*n, wabr scin kann oder gologeu 
Foiu muss. 

LMTiiiF.HK IX Koxiasnt:ii(i. 

IVnii ill <I<T Tlinl, fio linlH'ii iiiii-li unlrhor ViTpliiin 
»uk-)icM l.i'l>t'n»waii>l<'l* tM-xiiV|ili(;i. die *W\i iiicht vt-nio 
Wh'Ii kmihtfii, v»(i Allen ulxti, ilie iinVli ki-iiiirn. fTrki 
wit) iii(iT'ti|i-ii. iiitil wur iril an ciitriu Orlc nii-lir ;r<'l£iiiiQl 
eiu nlUT Anl f — li'li ki-Hii<: nirht ciiinial Alli-s, ja irL kr 
niir fiiicit Tlii'il tlv»M-n, wan KIh-I nnil M-in Aiiliani; gc 
tiiirli voDn-lirufht linU-ii ; <v ti-l iltcH qIht hi> entrtlrtll, i 
Tlu-il lU) in Unwiilirlicit uml In'j-'lichi' IK-iiliiiij; ^^-Kop'n. tli 
Kucl) Ml rt'in orlnp-n. iIhhh ifli in rti-ii iiiuniii^rii(-lH-n Vi'nii 
niin;f('ii, ili(.< ii'h nlit /t-iii;!- in ilii'Kcr Unt<TMK'liiiii;;r-iiii;n-lrf 
lii-il xn iilii-n-lrlii-ti Imltf, en mir vom lUrrn lm|iiin-nti'n v\ 
U-n ItnlK', niir eihi' p-nniHTo mill wciliTi.i Konnini'o'Tialiim' 
liijurii'ii. Vrrli'>ini>l<iii;;i'n u. *. w., tlit> jni)' Ijt-nlt- evp-o lu 
vi>r{;rl>rn>-l)l.Kii<Tln>M'n ; (iHKi-ccn mii-li sii viTilici>lt|.i-ii li* 
it'll uN Hwiis S<liii>i)>llirlicH )'iii|>rttii<li-ii, I iijurii'iiklui;<'n a 
);rf;rn I'rrsurirn /.u crlx'lH-n. <lii^ in Khrt'nHcliri)iduti{r AiicK 
'<ii;;uii(.'s. iinil Iti'MiinifiiiitU-l wiHii-ii, i 


,■ WKlnlni. 

i»l All. 



np-n k>.nnt*n. nrliiin niir I'Bii 
tu'iiiii-n und ilurcli wciiigc « 

i<-li II' 

(lol'l. I 

Nur KiMip> 
l.-riMl<- \\"y\ 

a. Ki" I hilt pTcii iiiii'li hN ZrtiKi'ti [irnli'tilirl ; 
«clili', dii' liiilii' lli'liilnli' liiilli- H'iiir rriitcFrtntion nn^ri'ii 
men, lift i>'li iilMlnnt) (friiiiH'r unil srlimcralii'liiT I'liiiiiiii'liint 
ki-iU'ii iilnTliuU'ii ffi'wsi'ii w'iri'. Seiii (Irund alivr, ili-i 
Bii^n') luiitli'rc uiid Ik'Smto liiilln it m-wiiut; vr wumMi' 
dui-H ioli ilii) ilurchi'chaut, uIkt dies vi-rKcLivii-ir rr kliii;li 
war: Mt M-i notiTiiich R-in Fiiinl. NuIoHm-Ii ! ^Vi-ni 
ilii'S iH'knniKf wnruin ncnnt t'r niclit solclii; Tliaisorli 
WoH IiuIh! it^li jc, aiK-h novli iiiciinT Trciinunff vnii ilnn, Fc 
wliKt'M iri'fp^nilin nnUTiioiiniicii T wamni ncDiitcr iiiclil wi 
'I'liulitiii'lii^ii 1' wiirniii iiiclil I'lno ciiixif;!^ T Ja, rr, uml u 
tr allcin wi'Ikk i-k, doKH icli, lanp; Bclinn von ihm ;n-t^'iii<'i 
uii-lil nurK(')i<irt halM', wnlilwoltciid p'frrn ihii pfi'siniit su i 
Icli will fin l>i-iN|iii'l ncnncn : mclircre Jahro nacli uns 
TrennuiiK irknii.ku- i-r wliwir nnil lilt wlir lnii;rc ; in 
Wludt wureii dii' wlilijmiish'n, i'lin'iiru)irif.'^li'n (icriiVlitc i 
Uruiid iinil Ur^ncliL' k^Iikt Kraiiklicit vt-rlin-itct. Wirwi 
bIxt, wiL- sfliwiiTi'.' winitT'tPiiK tin Ai«, ilcr ttiit den friihi 
Li'lK-nrtviTlnJliiiisM'Ti KIh'I'm nlilit lirkannr war, luid dcni 
richlitcc Mitltu'iluiipcn la innclicn. cr p'Wiwn nielit gvu 
war, dun walimu (irund dvs Uul>el>i werdu linden, also i 
di«i enifiinvlx'iidf l)<d)andliiii}fKWi.'iw w<-nlr ainvi'iuWn 
nen, konnlt- luir nirliL fnfgcbvu. On nahm ic-L bier 


KuVkspraclie mit Olshaiistcii, ciidlieh entscliIoHS ich inicli, 
E1>el (las AiKTbietcn zii niachcn, mit soincin Arztc, einoia 
niir Hclir VwWw Kollr^on, zii>ainiiM*nzutrctoii. urn niif die fiir 
ihn H4.*lioiuMi<isto Weisi' dicsoiu inriiu' An^iclit von (ler Natiir 
(weiia auch ni(*ht vtm don nioralisolmn UrsacluMi) dor Krank- 
lieit niitxutlu'iliMi. KU*1 lion^s \\\\x eine Hcltriftlirhr Antwort 
diircli Dirslfl iTtlu'iliMi. in wflchor er das Anorbiotrn /.war 
aUlcdinte, alxT fiir dio ^rosfn; Lirlie, die icli ilim dadureli zii 
erkennon gcp'iHMi, dunkte, vrrsirlirrnd, nie liahe ilun aiisser- 
ordentlioh wuldj^ctlian. Und nun nennt er nuch 8einen 
Feind? H^inen noiorisrhon Keind? 

h. Khel lN>hnu)itet,der Verlnst an Kinnalnnc, don ieh dureli 
die Trennun*; von ilini und ilen Seinen haln*. nelinierxe niieli 
und nuo'lie niich ilun feindlifli ^resinnt. leli sa^e Nielits von 
der edien (aesinnun;;, aus welrlier holrlie (*t)njeetur ullein 
entsprin^^en kann, thatsfirhlii'li aher ist FolpMides: allerdingn 
bal>e ieli aus friilter sehon entwickeUen natiirlielien (iriindeu 
tiUHM^rliel) H*lir durcli nu'ine Verhindung mit ilini pelitten, 
und meine Verlirdtnisso nind liadureh Ki*hr|r<'ilriiekt jrewesen; 
diei< jed(N*li mit Andereni« viel Seliwereren) hahe ieh geduldig 
gi'tra^en. Seit irh alM*r von ilun gelriMint bin, Kind niir 
freilieb alb* KlK^lianer, von deneu ieb Honst ein Kinkommen 
dureb iirztiieiies Honorar^ebabt.entprangen; mein Hinkommcn 
alH*r but trotz dies(*m Verbiste seitdeni iKMuabe uni dan Drei* 
faebe si4*b vernielirt, was ieb biemit eidlieb versiebej't*. 

c. K1n>I bebauptet, er bain* niir noeli einige Hogcnannto 
tirztlicbe Freundo f^elassen und somit aueb ein Kinkommen, 
was er (hireb ein einzi^res Wort batto aufbelten konnen. 
Walir ist biervon nur, dass mir aberdin^s noeb cinif^e anno 
Kl>elianer blielK*n, aber bb>9, weil er selbst sieb immer mit 
den Armen wenip in IJefreundunp einpelass<»n. Wenn ieb 
10 Tbab'r julirlieb fiir meine (jesammteinnalime von der 
damaJB mir frebliolM^nen Traxis Ihm KbeHanern von Jenmndeni 
crbielte, 8o wiinb' dieses mebr als um die lliilftc zukommeu, 
was ieb aueb eidlieb versieben?. 

d. EIh»I bat lH>banptet, er konne, wenn ieb ibm das IJeiebt- 
8ie>jel zu breeben ;restatten wolite, Dinpe von mir aussa;ren, 
die meine (ilaubbaftipkeit als /euiren auflieUMi wijrclen. 
Die8 vielleiebt lK»ispiellose Verfabren eines (jeistlichen, dazu 
eines evangel iscben, will ieb bier niebt beurlbeilen ; es weibt 
und 8eli:1ndet sicb sclbst binreieb(*nd. Ieb babe ibm diesc 
Kriaubniss ertheilt untcr der liediufruug, dasij mir seine 
AuHsagen zur Kinsiebt mitgetbeilt wiirden. Kr bat Nb'bts 
auHgesagt, wenigsteu^ ist mir Niebta mitgetheiit worden, 
was do(*b butto gi*sebebeu miissen. 


e, DicHtol hut Hchriftliche SrindoiilH'kenntnit>sc von niir i 
den Acti»n jrrpOion. Wtibcr hat er jrno ropion^f mc wn 
von niir niitiiT^osrhrivlNMi und in ih*n (ln7.11 lH*t«timnitcn Au: 
driirkrn nuMlcrfro'^chriulien iiuf Hiis«lriickh*chr?« unci hHitcfiAi 
drinvTi'n «l(;r Uriilin v. d. (iriilHMi und dor vor>«torlH*niMi (iriifi 
V. Kaiiitx ; dirr^cT audi haU^ ich »*ir uUt^tcIkmi. 

Zur N uhU' rsi'hrcihun}^ und AuslirftTun^c dioser mir frriH^ 
trnthciirt auf^i'p'lHMiiMi und aufj^'biirdoton SiiniicnU^keiinl 
iiiHsi! hut num niirh ;^*nothif^t, weni^re Tnp% niirhdrm id 
da.H Ungliick p'huht, niiMne (*rMc Frau dun*h den T<mI zi 
vorlicnMi, also in riniT innorlidi |fi*trid»ten und xorrism^nri 
(jtMuiithi^stinnnunfr. Zwcinial hat to ich mich von KIh*1 um 
don Soinip'U xuniokp*xo<ron (Kanitx nnprt: wo^^tH'h lichen 
nur wor niich konnt, woisH, chisH num niir oIkmi h<) jriit, d. Ii 
i;lM*n so unwuhr nuohsa^on konnte: ich flojo* nh* <^(^^ ^^^ 
Hohloioho). JotU Holltc ioh nut Strickou p*l>undon wonloi 
und da/ai Wnutzto num moinc danmli^* (loniiithsstinununi 
Ioh hulK* diow niir jotxt vorjrolo;:ton JNipicro nicht ausohv 
niO^'U, weil 8io niioh sum Thoil uiit Indiprnation ulMrmif 
si'Hist wo>r<*n (K»r Sohwaoho, dio ioh daninlH p»zci|;t, orfiillto 
Ich iH'uiorko nur das: wahrt«ohoinIich hat man nur oino At 
wail] von jonon l*u|iioron doni Kiohtor uljor^rolM'n ; Hind aii 
aHo mitp*thoilt, su niiissi'n sioh darin niohrort! si*hr til>h> Din 
von und iilMT K1m>I hotindon, untor Anih*rni oin wirkliol 
SohurkoMstroioh! Nur soloho, oImmi dioso Piipiori^ Im^wuI 
man auf (ich IiuIm' AUos, was ioh in llilndon ^'habt, \m a 
oin rrivatsoiiroiU'n ^'•loich naoh m«*inor Tn'nnunjj xu v 
hnMiiioii fiir Tiliolit pdialton), hiindif^t sio nun aiis and th 
sic /.u 111 Iviohtor! Und wcr tliutV]' Diostol.cin (toistlioh 
doni ioh join? Tapiorc oin^»'ojrolM'n ; SiinclonlN^koiintnii 
whioppt oin (Joistliohor 7.uni woltlichon ICiohtor!! — \> 
knnn iiioraiif olwas Aiidoros sapMi als: pfui I ni«*dortrrioht 
Und was will ordninitl' was soilon sio iM^woison? diis.s 
nis Zoiigo un^hiubhafl K'i, wi'il ioh oin Sinidor hin? 
bolohcr niioh ilihlo, iK^konno^ ho arf^uniontirt oin Ocistlioh< 
oin cvan;roli^ol^or? so ar^runiontinMi iVrsonon, die stron;;< 
IkMohto ahfcofonlort halion, als jo in dor katholischori Kin 
poschohon ist? hat man ihnon nicht sohcm Ciosinnun^*n 
Nundon,als wirklioho Siindon lN*konn<*n niiisnon? Nun wa 
lioh, woriihor soil man sioh iM'i solohoin Vorfuhn»ii niohr wi 
dorn, iiImt dio l^»siioit dos llorx^'us odcr illwr dio Vorloi 
Hung jcdor ohristliohon Natur? 

y. Diostol hat Zoujron, 4 un^liioklioho Frauonzimmer, 1 
^>l^ allc von Natur wcnig ausgcstuttct, kor[K;r]ich 80|^ar s 


hcil p'JW*irhnot<» IVrrtonon vor (loriclit ^cfiihrt, nni auszu- 
A^n, H«.«H irh Finnliohe lie^rirnlon p^oprcrn sic* ^rzript. (»c^- 
i)p*n ! okrihaft iiiid diinini ;;(.)o;r(*nI MiMli'licn z. \\. (nllrr- 
iiiiigs w?hr altc) Kapreii aus: irh kiisso wio olii Woliiistiinfrf 
Wolicr wij«>«en Miidehrn ho Ktwan? wrlclirr (ioistlicho, tlooh 
ncin, wrlchiT PfalTo hat ihiivn prosafrt, dass kIo nopir ileni 
Uichtor vorhijr«»n soIUmi ? — Kin aiidrrcs alton Mtldchon sa^t ; 
nic m*i mir urxtlich nrhr verpnirht<*t, alN*r ich hnttt* ilTztlifh siu 
doch v(*rfiachiu(<8ii;t und nic (hMiiiorh ^eliehll — Kiiu* strinalto 
Frau, Multer inohrtT rrwachsrniT KindiT, eino Fran, die ich 
Ditr Nrztlich wulin^nd riiier Krankheil p^sidim, in weh'hor 
Hit; an boftip^m 8)NMchollhiH8 ^clittcn, sa^i^t: ich haln; sic gc- 
kiiKst ; wahrlich, di<;K hiittc mir auH liarnihcrziprkcit und in 
^oHiiter St^lhstvorloiijrnnnfr jjoschohcn konnen. — Doch ^cnuj^ 
voD l>in|^cn,dic aln wahrhaftc Tollhoiton rrnchcincn miisstrn, 
wciin MIC niclit dcniioch Hchlaii und ho^haft wan^n ; dcnn im 
Protukoll stchcn dooh immiT Nanion und l>c»Htininitc An;;a- 
ben, abcr nicht die Hildcr dor Pernoncn, nicht ihrc Vcrhalt- 
DitMte ; eft ware ja doch wohl miiglich, den Uichter irre zu 

Ich sohlioFso, wic ich Wponncn, nicht Andcrc anzuklagon, 
nicht mich vcrthcidigen woUcnd niit dicscn /cilon. 

Einc ditnkle, vcrwickoUe Sacho, die cinor psychologischcn 
Erdrtcrnng hcdurftig ist, wolltc ich oinigormartscn crlautcrn. 

Ist dies irgcnd wie crroicht, so ist dcr Schmcre, den ich 
beim Nicdermrhrciljcn empfunden, aMchlich belohnt 

Kdnigifberg, den 15. July, 1836. 




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